Midsummer
by lily moonlight
Summary: When Don, recovering from illness, rents a house for the summer and invites his friends, the appearance of a stranger draws all of them into a years old mystery. AU, set in the 1940s. Don, Mac/Stella, Danny/Lindsay and Lucy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters related to CSI:NY**

****A few notes! I haven't forgotten about Old West, sorry for the length between updates. I've completed this story before starting to post, so there aren't months between chapters.****

**Many thanks to ****_Ballettmaus_ and ****_suallenparker_ for their help with the story and keeping me in touch with reality :D Thanks also to _LostinNewYork, sarramaks, brinchen86_ and _DNAisUnique_ for their really helpful comments on many of the chapters.**

**Most importantly... this story is for my friend, _afrozenheart412_. It is a very, _very_ late birthday present. I started this in February, having figured out the plot while swimming one evening (at The Concourse, West Kirby if anyone's interested :P) but it's grown from being a oneshot idea to a 15 chapter story... **

**Dori, I'm sorry this has taken so long, I hope you enjoy it. It's been a lot of fun to write, this is what was being written in my notebook in the Cafe Man's cafe for all those months! Lily x**

Chapter 1

Moments before he saw her reflection, he heard her approach; the heavy, careful tread that could belong to only one person.

Don turned towards the housekeeper. "Everything okay, Mrs H?"

The worried look on her face was answer enough. "Are you _sure_ you'll be all right, my love? I can quite well postpone my visit to Elizabeth a couple more days if you..."

He held up his hand, a smile blooming at the consideration behind her words. "Absolutely not," he said. "You've been looking forward to this for weeks, you've told me so. There's no need for you to go postponing anything. Besides, think how she'd feel. I bet she's been looking forward to seeing you as much as you have her. I'm fine."

When he had arrived in his battered old Chrysler with an equally battered suitcase in hand, both Martha and her husband had hurried out to welcome him; Dr Hammerback carrying his suitcase for him and Martha leading him to his room where refreshments had been laid out for him. After only a few days of acquaintance, Martha had gained an everlasting place in his heart.

A grin crossed his face as he slipped his arm round her plump shoulders, leading her back towards the door. "You know, even a bachelor such as me can manage to look after himself and a few friends for a weekend while you're away."

Martha's expression wavered. "I'm not suggesting you aren't capable, my love," she said, just as Don caught the sound of a horn tooting from outside. She ignored it and continued, "far from it. It's just, well, I feel like I'm abandoning you, what with all your friends arriving in a few hours." She gazed up at him, anxiously, and he hastened to relieve her of the feeling.

"You're not abandoning me, Mrs H." The shortening of her name had slipped from his tongue on his first day there. Martha had simply laughed and pinched his cheek, handed him a plate of cookies and shooed him out of the kitchen. The years had melted away from him faster than the cookies had disappeared into his stomach.

Now he patted the well-padded top of her arm, continuing in a light-hearted tone, "Think how much you'll have to tell me when you get back. I'll be fine. And you know what? If the mood takes me, I might run the vacuum cleaner round, do a little dusting..." The last was said with a sly look, as he was well aware of her possessiveness over her duties.

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" she retorted and then sighed. "As long as you make sure you keep on getting plenty to eat, Mr Flack, and make time to rest. Rosie Hudson from town _was_ going to come in for a couple of hours each day to see to things, making up your beds and the like." A dubious note sounded in her voice as she added, "But seeing as she's been taken poorly, she won't be. Taken to her bed, she has, though maybe it's for the best. I certainly wouldn't have trusted her to have kept a check on your food situation, seeing she isn't one for much cooking herself. How her poor husband keeps body and soul together I do not know." Martha's opinion of Rosie gave Don an inner smirk, though he said nothing.

As well as Martha herself, he would miss the meals she had created for him. They had, even in the short space of time of his vacation, begun to fill the dips and hollows left in his face and ribs after the privations of the war and his recent, protracted illness.

"Still, there isn't too much will need doing: your rooms are all aired and made up," Martha continued, checking items off on her fingers, "there's clean linen on the beds, I've freshened up the flowers and I've made sure the pantry's stocked up nicely."

"Enough to last us for a few weeks, huh? In case of a siege?" he teased her. The pantry was replete with food and even the dining room table had been laid out for dinner with a salad pulled fresh from the garden and garnished with herbs from the same.

Martha shook her head at him with a sigh while he chuckled, by which time they had reached the door. Outside on the front drive her husband sat in their car drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The horn had sounded for a second time and judging by the expression on his face, was about to sound again.

Stopping for a moment, clutching her large black purse, Martha studied Don's face. "You're a capable man, Mr Flack. I have no doubt about that." She gave a small nod, satisfied at last. "Well, I'd best go my love, or dear Sidney will be getting impatient." She tipped her face up and kissed his cheek. "Have a wonderful time with your friends. I'm looking forward to meeting them when I get back."

Don returned the kiss and gave her a salute as she hurried out of the front door, grabbing her hat on the way. With a hasty wave over her shoulder, she departed in a waft of lavender and a scent of baking.

Chuckling, Don wandered across the black and white tiled hall and through into the wraparound porch, in time to see the departure of the Hammerbacks' ancient Ford. With a backfire and a jerk, it lurched forward across the gravel and jolted on its way down the drive, Martha's hat just visible as she waved it through the window.

He watched until the last view of the feathers on Martha's hat had vanished. A sigh escaped his lips as he remained motionless gazing out across the view of unruly flower beds and far distant undulations of hills and trees, wavering in the heat. His watch showed a little before 2 o'clock, so for two hours the time was his alone. The Messers had estimated their arrival at around 6pm; the Taylors, however, were due to arrive at 4 o'clock and Don knew without question that they would arrive at the time Mac had stated. In all the years of their friendship, he had never known the former lieutenant to be less than punctual. In contrast, Stella was a little more lackadaisical about timekeeping and took a mischievous delight on occasion in stretching punctuality to its limit. However, she cared for her husband's idiosyncrasies and had never yet made him late.

Ambling along the porch, a brief laugh came from Don as he pictured the scene at the Taylors' home, imagining it to be similar to one he had witnessed a year or so ago when he had house-sat for the couple. Mac had been called to attend an out of state conference, accompanied by his wife, and Don had been tickled by the sight of him in the driver's seat of their car, the passenger door open, calling to Stella, who was upstairs, swithering between several choices of hats and shoes to bring with her.

Although, he thought, reviewing the image, considering their current circumstances, things might now be a little different. Certainly, Mac would still be keeping strictly within time limits, but he would likely be escorting his wife down the steps and into the car, carrying all there was to carry and making several checks that she was safely and comfortably seated before they departed.

His smile a little wistful now, Don wandered along the porch and out through the open doors at the far end that led into the gardens of the house. Built in the last decade of the previous century, it sat alone, though not lonely, content amongst its gardens and grounds. Nestled amongst the hills and heights of the landscape, it seemed secure and at ease. Despite the sorrow that had encumbered the previous inhabitants, Don had felt a welcome from the house. The peace of the afternoon made him wonder again about the history of the house; when here and now, the tragedy of its past seemed so far away.

Steps idle and idling, Don wandered along, plucking a blade of grass here and a leaf there, admiring again the aspect of the building. Catching the afternoon sun, the mellowed clapboard sides of the house were honeyed with the molten light and its windows shone amber.

His steps slowing and his thoughts beginning to haze, Don felt the lazy heat settling over and swathing him. Tired, he wended his way back indoors, ducking his head to avoid the tangling trails of wisteria that swept low from the eaves of the porch. Something close to the ground made him stop. With a wry smile he bent down and plucked the small bachelor's button flower that had snagged his attention, and poked it into his shirt buttonhole before making his way round to the back of the house.

The scent of the flower tickled his nostrils as he entered the kitchen. Inside was cool, its red-tiled floor glowing in the sunlight that slanted through the windows.

"Bless you, Martha," Don murmured to himself at the sight of a pot of coffee on the stove and a plate heaped with cookies on the table covered with gauze to keep off the flies. Grabbing a handful, he made his way back to the porch.

In the sultry air sleep beguiled Don as he plumped down into one of the cushioned cane chairs. Having eaten his cookies, he decided he had time enough for a short nap before the Taylors arrived and he lay back, wriggling amongst the cushions until he was comfortable. Stretching in front of him the vista of the gardens and landscape wobbled in the heat. His gaze blurred as he stared, mind slipping into a dream-like lull until he blinked and re-focused his eyes to the present and his thoughts about the forthcoming weeks with his friends.

He had invited both couples here for their enjoyment and for his; to share the pleasures of an upstate New York house in June. His friends had done much for him during his illness: it pleased him to be able to return them some happiness, the Messers particularly. Knowing that the family's constant money worries meant that they had never enjoyed a vacation together, it had given him a secret happiness to see the joy on their faces at the invitation.

They, in contrast to Mac and Stella, he expected to arrive at least several hours later than scheduled. His younger friends lived a haphazard life after all they had lived through during the war, and with their daughter who had celebrated her fifth birthday several weeks ago, they had many challenges as a family.

But, thinking of the little girl who called him 'Uncle', Don grinned. Being Lucy Messer's favourite Uncle brought him tremendous pride and he looked forward to also being the favourite Uncle of the Taylors' long-yearned for and now imminent arrival.

And yet, he felt just a shadow of regret as he thought of all his married friends; a shadow that had appeared on the horizons of his happily single life only recently.

More and more he realised, even though it scared him, that to have his own companion, someone who was lover, wife and family; that was what he wanted. As time passed though, it was what he had begun to think he might never have. And that scared him even more.

Fingering the petals of the wilting bachelor's button, he sighed, and then shook his head, dismissing the gloom. A bachelor, yes, but he was not discontent with life. While not fatalistic, he took what came and remained philosophical.

Having reconciled his thoughts for the time being, Don shifted once more amongst the cushions, finished off his cookies and swept the crumbs from his shirt and pants, and then lay back in the chair, toeing his shoes off as he stretched out his legs. As he closed his eyes, silken, sunlight fingers stroked his skin and soothed him to sleep at last.

The sound of tires on the driveway disintegrated his dreams. In an instant, he jerked awake, stumbling out of the chair, uttering a curse as he almost tripped on his shoes. Still groggy and fumbling with sleep, he nonetheless managed to tug them back on, one hand clutching the back of the chair before he hurried out to meet the car and its occupants. A glance at his watch as he rushed through to the front door showed him that the Taylors were dead on time. Some things could always be depended upon, he thought wryly, trying to swipe the creases out of his pants. By the time he reached the hallway he had recovered himself enough to swagger nonchalantly out of the front door, hands shoved into his pockets, ready to welcome his guests.

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><p><strong>And finally... I'd love to know what you think so far! Many thanks, Lily x<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: Thank you very much to all those who read and reviewed :) Please continue! **

**Thanks also to _Ballettmaus_ and _suallenparker_ for their help with this chapter, and to _cmaddict_ for giving me her view on Don's 'voice'.**

Chapter 2

The car sweeping up to the front of the house, silver where the sun hit its gleaming, sleek black exterior, could only belong to Mac Taylor. How he managed to keep his car so clean was something Don, whose own vehicle was more mud than paintwork, could never understand. On more than one occasion he had teased Mac; querying whether he employed someone especially to wash his car for him every day, with Mac's answer being simply an icy stare.

Through the car window, Stella waved as Mac brought the car to a careful halt. Moments later, despite Stella's best efforts to thwart him, he leaped out and opened the door for her; her advanced pregnancy making it more difficult for her to move as mercurially as she was used to. Giving Mac a feigned glower, she accepted the hand he offered and swung her legs out of the car; accomplishing that with her usual elegance.

"Mac, you fuss too much." As she stood up, she tweaked the brim of his hat, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I know. So you tell me," Mac replied placidly, straightening his hat with his free hand. With a mock-serious frown she muttered, 'fusspot' and Don, enjoying the exchange between his two closest friends, smirked; well aware that had he not been present, Stella would have made no complaint.

"Don, can you believe it..." Stella broke from her husband to pull their friend into a hug. "He almost made us late!" She stepped back, clasping his forearms to regard him with a look of exaggerated incredulity.

In turn, Don expressed his shocked disbelief as Stella turned triumphant eyes to her husband.

"Mac, tell me it ain't the truth," he joked as he and the older man shook hands with vigour.

"It's true," he said dryly while Stella nodded at Don with obvious mirth. But the smile of affection at her husband shone through that.

"He checked and re-checked the car so many times it made me dizzy," she elaborated her claim. "Making sure everything was packed; that I had everything I needed; everything I might need, and even a few things I didn't need at all. In the end, _I_ had to remind him of the time."

Mac shrugged. "Just making sure, after past experiences, that we wouldn't get halfway and have you shriek that you'd left something absolutely vital behind..." His mouth twitched at the corners and Stella gave him a nudge.

"I _was_ going to say I appreciated your thoughtfulness."

Seizing a moment to interrupt, Don spoke up, "Seems like impending fatherhood's mellowed you, Mac."

A rare, wide smile appeared on the former soldier's face. "I guess it has. I wouldn't change it for the world."

Stella squeezed his arm, her eyes bright, all of them aware of the trials the couple had been through to get to where they were now; the hurt and loss they had suffered.

Quick to renew the light-heartedness, Don turned to Stella. "So, how are you doing yourself? You look well. Guess this is the only time I'm allowed to say you've gained a little weight without getting a knee somewhere painful for being rude."

There were no other women to whom he would dare make that comment, but modern in her thinking, Stella could hold her own dealing with anyone, male or female, without ever losing her poise or dignity.

In answer to his question she beamed, her hand moving unconsciously to the baby she carried, her rounded stomach visible in the dress she wore. "I'm good. Better than ever in fact."

The glow in her face was enough to tell him so, but he still looked critically at her, remembering several months back when a debilitating bout of morning sickness had taken its toll. Now though, those troubles had become a receding shadow and he nodded. "You look it."

She tipped her head a little to the side. "And what about you? You sure look like you've got more colour after resembling a washed out rag last time we saw you, don't you think, Mac?"

Her husband gave a crooked smile as Don snorted and attempted to brush off their concern. "Thanks for the flowers, Stell. Okay, I admit, I probably didn't look so great a few weeks back, but I feel fine."

"We're glad to hear it," Mac said.

Don grinned. "Guess you've missed all my thoughtful and intelligent insights into your cases, huh? You'll be glad to see me back at work in a few weeks' time."

"That I will," Mac replied and his sincerity made Don bite back the flippant comment he had been about to give.

"And it's only few more weeks' to go until the baby's here," Stella remarked. After glancing at Don, she leaned into her husband, rubbing his arm, her gaze meeting his before she turned back to their friend. "It's gone so fast. It seems hardly any time since we were telling you the news."

Don smiled, recalling the moment; remembering the half-afraid excitement in their voices after so many previous disappointments when they had told him.

Noting Stella's hand returning to her stomach, Don grinned, gesturing at the still petite curve. "Whoever's in there still ain't so big."

A wry look crossed Stella's face. "Big enough to kick plenty."

Mac's hand slid to his wife's lower back, massaging it as he took a step forward, shading his eyes as he glanced upwards into the brilliance of the sky. "Are you going to show us inside, Don, or are we going to admire the outside of the house for the rest of the day?" His tone was light, but the tiniest glint in his eye reminded Don of that fiercely protective nature, one that would be roused in a moment at any challenge to his wife's comfort. With a conciliating movement, Don apologised easily for his laxity in being a host, clapped a hand on Mac's shoulder and ushered them indoors.

As they crossed the threshold, a feeling awoke in him; the feeling that for the first time in longer than he cared to remember, he was welcoming friends into a home. The cramped little apartment he rented back in the city was not home; never had been and never would be. It was a place to live, nothing more. Here, in contrast, temporary though his stay was, the house gave him a sense of pride.

A proprietary pride that increased as he showed the Taylors round and they admired with sincerity the rooms and the furnishings. When he took them upstairs, their enthusiasm grew as he led them into their bedroom.

With a view over the garden that he knew Stella would love and a proximity to the staircase for Mac's convenience, so he could make his early morning starts without fear of rousing the rest of the household, it seemed designed for them.

"What a wonderful room," Stella murmured as she lowered herself onto the window seat and ran her hands over the cushions Martha had arranged there, gazing round with rapturous eyes.

Don plastered a questioning look on his face, smothering his smile with difficulty. "You sure you like it? If not, I can find another for you..."

She swung her head round and narrowed her eyes at him. "Don Flack, you're incorrigible."

Leaning against the solid oak bed post with his hands in his pockets, Mac chuckled. "I think it's safe to say she likes it. As do I."

"It's perfect," Stella said solemnly as Mac sauntered over to join her at the window, shading his eyes to look out once he had taken up position next to her, while she took his hand.

Don watched them; lost in each other's presence without even being aware of it. Feeling a twist in his stomach, torn again between happiness for them and the sense of lacking, he turned away and crossed to the other window, his footsteps soft in the deep pile of the carpet. Below him, through the glass, the garden drowsed in the mid-afternoon heat. Far from begrudging his friends' hard-won happiness, he was glad for them. What they had, however, had begun to reveal to him what he didn't have. Though he was ashamed of feeling envious, he could not completely suppress it.

"How about I bring your luggage in?" he offered, abruptly, and the heads of both husband and wife turned to him. "I guess you'll want to get unpacked and settled in?"

"I'll bring it in, if you don't mind lending a hand." Mac straightened up, amusement twitching the corners of his lips as he gave Stella a sideways glance. "Some of those suitcases might be a little weighty. Going by what Stella packed, we could be here for a year..."

"That's not fair, Mac." She tugged his fingers. "You were the one who insisted on me bringing everything." Mac grinned. "Anyhow," Stella continued with a teasing smile, using her husband's hand to help pull herself up, "if it's my luggage that's going to make things too heavy for you to carry out of the car, I'd better come and help..."

Smirking, Don decided it was his turn to add to the conversation. "Mac and I between us have got just enough muscles to manage."

"He's right," Mac added, tucking a curl behind his wife's ear. "And you have to allow me a chance to be the dutiful husband once in a while."

"You're always that." She looked at him, adjusting the collar of his shirt as she spoke. "But you could at least let me feel a bit useful and bring in something." Tilting her head a fraction, she regarded him with a blink of her eyelashes. "There are a couple of hat boxes..." Her voice rose meaningfully.

"...Which I'll take particular care not to drop or squash," Mac finished, his fingertips brushing the top of her arm. "I promise."

A sigh breaking from her, Stella lifted her hands and let them fall. "Okay, okay, I'll be a good girl. I'll watch you guys do the heavy work from the window."

"Feel free to take a look around, do some exploring," Don offered as he, walking backwards, and Mac headed out of the room. "It's a pretty big place, plenty to see."

Stella's smile returned. "I'll let you have the pleasure of showing us round the rest of the house later."

"You got it." He nodded, waving as he and her husband left the room.

They trooped down the wide staircase, Mac glancing up at the pictures on the walls, remarking on the few pieces of sculpture that adorned various niches. Don on the other hand, though he had been in the house almost a week, could still not resist sliding his hand along the polished walnut wood banister. It was buffed and polished to a lustrous gleam and the bronze statuettes dotted around that had caught Mac's eye glowed thanks to the diligence of Martha's dusting.

Outside did not escape the housekeeper's eye or hand either; the paint and glass shone, dazzled even, free of streaks and proud to catch the sun's light. Don squinted in the near-blinding glare from the paintwork as he and Mac walked over to his car and began to unload it.

While Mac handed out the luggage from the trunk, he piled things up on the drive. It took them longer than expected to dislodge and unload the assortment of cases, small valises and the aforementioned hat boxes. By the time they were finished, he was wiping his forehead with a large handkerchief, feeling trickles of sweat from his scalp creep down his neck and face.

When both of them had all the various items balanced in their arms, Mac tipped his head towards the house, remarking in a dry voice, "Stella will be wondering what's happened to us if we're out here much longer."

Don gave a snort of amusement as they strode inside. "I can almost hear what she's going to have to say about our ability, or otherwise, to manage without her help."

Indoors, after the blazing heat of the drive, felt even more cool and refreshing. For a moment, they paused at the bottom of the stairs, breathing in the calm of the atmosphere and the mingling scents of beeswax polish and flowers.

Don led the way up the stairs, but allowed Mac in front of him through the door of his and his wife's room. At the sight of Stella asleep on top of the comforter on the bed, he and Mac exchanged a grin. Her shoes were kicked off by the window seat and she lay on her side – one hand resting on her stomach, the other pillowing her cheek.

"Guess she isn't going to say anything about our luggage-lifting abilities after all," Don whispered, smirking.

Smiling in agreement, Mac placed his burden of luggage down quietly, before retrieving a crocheted shawl from one of the cases which he laid with care over his wife. Soft-footed as possible, they crept out of the room and downstairs. Refreshing themselves with glasses of iced drinks, they rambled round the garden, discussing arrangements for the coming weeks.

Their plans were few, on purpose. It was Don's intention to make the time as relaxing and carefree as possible; time to spend away from the worries of the world. All of them had suffered during the war, and even now, two years after peace had been declared, the echoes of that almighty conflict still resounded.

Here, though, in the gardens of the quiet villa, those echoes had begun to dim into the distance; muted by the glories of the plants and flowers, the scents that infused them, the hum of bees in the mellow air. As the two men strolled across the lawns, the sound of their lowered voices was all the noise they made.

They had just rounded the corner of the house after a circular tour of the formal garden, bordering the wilderness beyond, when they heard the sound of a sash window sliding upwards and a clarion voice calling to them from above.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Stella called as she gazed down at them. "Stay where you are, I'll be down in a few minutes." Having issued her instructions, she disappeared back into the room.

Hand rubbing the back of his neck, a rueful look appeared on Mac's face. "I kind of hoped she might sleep for longer..."

"Is she taking on your insomniac habits now?" Don smirked and folded his arms across his chest. "Have you two been married that long?"

Mac responded with an impassive stare. "She's had barely any sleep at night the last few weeks because of the baby's activity, even less than I usually get."

"Is everything okay?" Don asked, smirk fading as he studied Mac. "I mean, there's nothing unusual about that, right? Stell's okay otherwise?"

"I guess it isn't unusual at this stage," Mac answered, swirling the dregs in his glass absently. "And yes, she's okay otherwise, she really has gained some weight at last and at the last appointment with her doctor, he told her as far as he can tell, the baby's growing fine. The only other thing bothering her, though she'll say nothing about it of course, is back ache. But apart from that, she's good."

"Great to hear," Don nodded, relieved, before a wicked grin crossed his face as he remembered something. "So what's she been occupying herself with when she can't sleep? She's not taken up knitting again, surely?"

Mac chuckled. "Not since she realised the pair of gloves she'd made for me had six too many fingers. After that, she decided knitting wasn't for her."

After their laughter died away, still with smiles in their faces, both men paused for a minute, both gazing at the house whose windows had turned to gold, glistening in the light of approaching evening.

"This is a nice place," Mac turned to Don with a light in his eyes that conveyed his contentment. "It'll do Stella good to take it easy here before the baby arrives.

Don raised his eyebrows. "Stella and the words 'taking it easy' are not usually heard together in the same sentence. You think she will?"

"Miracles happen sometimes," Mac said, a hint of irony in his voice. "In all seriousness though, I think she will. As much as she doesn't like the fact, she knows she has to ease up on her usual activities at the moment. If she can relax in a place like this, it really will do her good, and likely it'll do me good, too." Another rueful smile slid onto his face. "It does get kind of claustrophobic spending all that time in the office..."

"You know, as well as your office, large and spacious as it is of course, as fits a senior officer of the NYPD, you do have a very nice apartment you can spend time in," Don reminded his friend with a deadpan face

"So Stella tells me plenty." The older man looked sheepish. "But... well, after the baby's born, I'm going to spend a little less time there and more time with her." He paused, looking away for a moment, before revealing some of his inner fears in the look that he gave his friend. "I guess you realise times like this, that life's just too short. We've waited so long for this - I want to spend as much time as I can with her and the baby."

Don only nodded, giving Mac a quick smile and a murmured 'sure'. He understood.

Clearing his throat, Mac seemed about to say more, but was stopped by Stella herself appearing around the corner of the house. She trod barefoot across the grass, shoes swinging from one hand, and greeted them both brightly.

"Any sign of the Messers arriving yet?"

"Nope. It's unlikely we're going to see them for at least another hour," Don told her, smiling at the sight of Mac's arm slipping round his wife's waist to caress her stomach, before adding in hopeful tones, "There's plenty of time to get a little something to eat if you want."

It earned him a few teasing comments from his friends which he took good-naturedly as they made their way to the front of the house. On a bench by the door, Stella sat down and slipped her feet back into her shoes, rising again with a hand from her husband, who had reached for hers with the instinct Don had already perceived.

As she stood up and brushed a few curls out of her eyes, Don caught the sound of a distant car. And there was only one car the sound could belong to. Made audibly unique by its imaginative repairs, he could recognise the old convertible's engine anywhere.

Turning to Mac and Stella, the grin on his face grew wide. "Seems I underestimated their sense of timing... Prepare yourselves for the oncoming chaos of the Messer family."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading :) As ever, your opinions are very welcome! Lily x<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Many thanks for the reviews and alerts :) I really do appreciate if you're able to take time to review and let me know what you think. **

**Apologies for the delay in posting this; the chapter and I had a few disagreements... Thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for helping me out with that, and also to _Suallenparker_ and _Lost in New York_ for their help and comments.**

Chapter 3

Proving Don's hearing correct, some minutes later, a battered old vehicle slewed round the curve of the driveway and squawked to a halt. Lindsay Messer sat at the wheel looking flushed and harassed, with her husband grinning beside her.

After running her hands through her hair, making it wilder than it already was, Lindsay got out first, Don having opened the door for her. Danny manoeuvred himself out more slowly, walking stick in hand.

"Where's my little Lucy-Lou?" Don hugged Lindsay and kissed her cheek as he made his demand.

"Fast asleep on the back seat at last," Lindsay said with a sigh. "It's been a _long_ journey."

In testament to that, her cotton print frock looked crumpled and she attempted to smooth it down before Mac and Stella approached. They greeted the young woman with warmth while she in turn exclaimed how Stella looked blooming, which put a delighted smile on that lady's face.

Don resisted his instinct to give Danny a helping hand, instead patting his friend on the back once he was safely out of the car and steady with his walking stick.

"Good to see you made it here in one piece." He grinned and Danny smirked.

"Likewise, but don't let Lindsay hear you say that. She's mighty proud of her driving skills, even if me and Lucy end up being a little shaken around."

"A little shaking around won't do your brains any harm." Don clapped him on the shoulder with a broad smile. It pleased him to see only a trace this time of how much it had rankled with Danny at first that his wife had to drive him.

The joking remarks continuing between them, they made their way to the front door behind the Taylors and Lindsay. When neither she nor her husband showed any signs of turning back to the car, Don stopped, looking between them.

"Uh, guys? Haven't you forgotten a vital piece of luggage?" he asked. "Or is your daughter spending the vacation in the car? Don't know how much fun that's going to be for her..."

"Your humour don't improve, Flack," Danny retorted, leaning on his stick. "She's fine in the back seat for now. We'll let her sleep a while longer so we can get all the luggage in without her idea of helping. Once she's asleep, she's asleep. I'm telling you, that kid could sleep through an earthquake. Move her on the other hand, and she's awake and grumpy in seconds. We'll get unpacked then carry her upstairs."

"No need." Don motioned him through the front door. "You three have got a downstairs bedroom complete with en suite bathroom and dressing room off to the side, which will suit Luce perfectly. There's a cot set up in there for her already."

"You serious?" Danny stopped and swung round to face Don and a suspicious look crossed his face. "If you've gone to a heap of trouble, moving stuff downstairs just to accommodate me and my leg..."

Don held up his hands. "Swear to God, Messer, I did nothing of the sort, the room was already there. All I did was set up the cot. The folks who own this place used it for their eldest son. He was in the 17-18 war, got a shrapnel hit to the spine and was left paralysed. They fitted the room up for him and his wheelchair."

Danny gave him a quick, sharp look, and then his face relaxed and he conveyed his thanks with a rapidly spoken 'okay'.

Once Lindsay and Danny had been shown their room, many willing hands made light work of their unpacking. Lucy, true to her father's word, did not stir throughout. When all the cases were out of the car, Lindsay roused her daughter and carried her through to the sunlit living room.

Rubbing her eyes and pouting, Lucy nonetheless allowed herself to be greeted in a conventional fashion by Mac and Stella, and with a tickle and a swing up into the air from Don which improved her mood rapidly.

"Uncle Don," she protested with a giggle as he held her up in the air. "Mommy doesn't let Daddy do that."

"And Mommy hopes Uncle Don isn't going to make a habit of it, especially not after Daddy fed you cookies for lunch," Lindsay interrupted with a stern look in her face; although Don knew that her words were harsher than her intent. Still, he set Lucy down straight away

"Hear that, Luce? You better not be sick otherwise I'll be in big trouble with your Mommy," he said, giving a sly glance to Lindsay.

"I'm never sick," Lucy boasted. "Never, ever, _never_. Not even when I eat _this__many_ doughnuts!" She held up all her fingers, leading to exaggerated gasps of disbelief from all the adults, much to the little girl's delight. With a titter behind hands now pressed to her mouth, she looked mischievously at Don who had knelt down in front of her.

"Well, let me tell you something kind of secret..." He leaned in close to her ear and she giggled again, wrapping one arm round his neck. "There was this one time when I was really, really hungry. And do you know how many doughnuts I ate?"

Lucy shook her head. "I ate..." Don dropped his voice even lower, "I ate..._twenty-three__doughnuts._"

Lucy clapped her hands over her mouth. "Uncle Don! Did you gotten a tummy ache and been sick?"

He rocked back on his heels and grinned at her. "Nope, not even a tiny bit. I had a real empty stomach that needed filling up with food."

Lucy patted her own stuck out stomach. "My stomach's empty right now. Can me and Uncle Don get something to eat?" To which Lindsay stuttered in disbelief and Danny chortled.

"Honey, your Uncle Don's stomach is never full. And if you're not careful," he continued, giving a tug to one of her pigtails, "And don't feed him enough, he gets hungry enough to eat little girls."

At that, Don made a move to grab her and with a squeal of excitement, Lucy darted away from him and dodged round the couch, and a game of chase ensued, which ended when Don collapsed on the floor with an exaggerated groan. Lying there, spread-eagled, he opened one eye a sliver, watching as Lucy approached him with great caution.

She hunkered down next to him, face serious. "Are you okay, Uncle Don?" she asked with her head on one side as she lifted one of his floppy arms and let it drop.

Pretending to be barely able to lift his head, he answered in a whisper that he might just be okay, if only he was able to have a plate of cookies...

It proved too much for Stella, who spluttered with laughter, triggering the same from the others. In the end, Don himself fetched the plate of cookies, offering them round first before he ate a few to ward off starvation.

Lucy settled between Lindsay and Stella on the couch. Still shy of Uncle Mac, the police officer, she pressed close to her mother when he asked what toys she had brought with her, answering, "lots," with huge eyes. To her Aunt Stella, however, she opened up much more; eagerly placing her small hand on Stella's stomach to feel the baby moving. A wriggle of delight followed when the baby obliged and kicked. Deluged by questions then about the tiny person growing inside her, Stella answered them amiably.

While she and Lindsay engaged in chatter with Lucy, Don and Mac accompanied Danny outdoors to smoke a cigarette. They returned to the strains of jazz music floating through the evening air and found Lucy dancing to the music that crackled from the old wireless tucked away in a cabinet. Lindsay and Stella watched, laughing as the little girl skipped and twirled; pointed her toes and pirouetted before she dropped to the floor in a giddy heap.

"We're having fun, Daddy!" Lucy beamed at her father, "Will you and Uncle Don dance with us?" she added scrambling to her feet.

"Why, I'd be honoured to dance with a lady like you." Don stooped and offered a genteel hand to her. "Would you do me the honour of this dance, Miss Lucy?"

"Yes Mr Uncle Don," she giggled and clasped his hands, the two of them embarking on an unusual waltz until Lucy went slack in Don's arms, declaring that her feet hurt, and Lindsay who had been watching with a mother's eye suggested bath and bed to her daughter with a gentle smile.

At the mention of the word 'bed', the little girl's face crumpled and tears spilled out of her eyes. But the brief squall was soon quelled after Lindsay murmured a few soothing words to her and with a pleading glance at Don, promised that her uncle would read her a story. He was happy to oblige and Lindsay led a sniffing Lucy from the room towards the kitchen, Don having offered the use of it for Lucy's supper.

Following their departure, he decanted drinks for himself and the others. Outside, the pinpricks of sound from the night-time insects provided a lulling backdrop and sipping his scotch and soda, he sauntered over to the window and stood gazing out. In the glass, his reflection watched him, a ghost amongst the shadowy view of the garden, darkly lit by the moon. Behind him were the figures of his friends, at which he half-smiled and pulled the curtains closed, sat back down and joined the conversation until, a little under an hour later, Lindsay re-entered the room and announced that Lucy was waiting for her Daddy and Uncle Don to say goodnight.

Outpacing Danny, it was Don who poked his head round the door of the dressing room first. "Hey, Luce, you still awake?"

Lucy gave a drowsy smile. "I'm awake."

Her nightlight emitted a soothing glow, and with amusement he kept hidden, Don saw there was barely room for the little girl's head on the pillow, so covered was it with stuffed animals of all species. Most, he knew, had been made by Lindsay; the others were gifts from him and friends who knew of Lucy's love of stuffed toys.

"You got to speak real quiet though," Lucy continued, folding her hands across her chest on the covers, "'cause the babies are asleep." She indicated the mute creatures behind her with a tilt of her head. Both men nodded seriously and Don bent to rescue a small pink rabbit which had tumbled to the floor.

"Still want a story, Luce?" he asked, wondering how long it would be before the sandman called.

She smiled and bobbed her head. "My book's on top of my trunk."

After locating the book, Don perched on a stool and once the rabbit was replaced on the pillow, he began. As he turned the final page, Lucy's eyelids were drooping.

"Did you like that?" he asked.

A dreamy smile appeared on her face as she nodded. "Those kitties were _funny_..."

And then her eyelids flew open. "Thank you for dancing with me, Uncle Don."

With a grin, he bent and kissed her forehead. "Any time, Luce. You're a swell dancer."

"You too." She smiled, which changed to a frown as she considered her uncle. "But you're too tall. My arms were stretched and I had to stand on my toes and it hurt them."

Don grinned at her aggrieved look. "Guess you'll just have to do some growing then, Munchkin, won't you?"

"I grow every day," Lucy said smugly. "Mommy says so. So I'll soon be as tall as you."

"That might take a few years yet," Don warned her, ruffling her fair curls. "You've got a lot of inches to grow before you're as tall as me."

Lucy sighed, eyes fluttering closed, her voice starting to slur. "Who're you going to dance with till I've growed tall?"

"Maybe," Danny said with a sideways grin at his friend, "Uncle Don might find a nice lady to dance with while he's waiting for you to grow tall."

"Mmm... maybe," Lucy mumbled. "But she's got to be ever so nice and pretty, too."

Don shook his head, embarrassed, and shot a glare at his friend even as he spoke gently to the little girl. "Sleep tight, Lucy-Lou and have happy dreams. Me and you can go exploring in the garden tomorrow and have some adventures like those kitties had. What do you think?"

"Nice..." Lucy murmured.

"Goodnight, honey," Danny kissed his daughter's cheek. A smile appeared on her face but her eyes stayed shut so the two men slipped out, pulling the door closed behind them.

"What?" Don caught sight of the amused look Danny was giving him.

"You're supposed to creep out of the room on tip toe when you've finished a story, not ask the kid whether they liked it or not," Danny said, tugging him away from the door. "Rule number one of bedtime story reading, according to Lindsay."

"She's asleep now," Don defended himself and Danny patted him on the back.

"It's a mistake I made many times. You'll learn." He gave Don a grin and a punch on the arm before limping ahead.

Don pulled a wry face and followed Danny back to the living room, where recovering his mood, he remembered his role as host and asked whether anyone was ready for dinner.

"Thought you'd never ask," Danny responded in high good humour before an inquisitive look came over his face. "Hey, how about over dinner you tell us what else you've found out about the house and that Angell kid who disappeared way back."

"You got it." Eager to tell them what he had found out about the years-old tragedy, Don ushered his party through to the dining room.

**Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear what you think. Lily x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes: Thanks again to _Ballettmaus_ and _Suallenparker_ for their help with this chapter. Thanks, too, to _Lost in New York_ and _Brinchen86_ for their thoughts on the chapter in its early stages. **

**Thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter; please continue, it's always so helpful to know what you think.  
><strong>

Chapter 4

Before Don began the story of the house and the missing child, he regaled his guests with his adventures so far at the house and described in great detail Martha and Sid Hammerback. Lavishly, he embellished Martha's English heritage and eccentricities and her husband's quirks. When he spoke of their unstinting kindness towards him, however, he was sincere.

"You'll adore them both when you meet them," he assured everyone, his mouth full of salad – talking having curtailed his eating. "Martha's a honey and Sid's one of the nicest old guys you could meet."

They all smiled and Lindsay, after glancing round, instigated a change in conversation. "Come on, Don, you've held back long enough, what's the full story behind the house?" she asked. "All I know is that a little girl went missing from here years ago and was never found."

Swallowing his last mouthful, he began, "It's a curious kind of story..." before turning to his oldest friend. "Mac, you'll remember it from when it happened. Remember, it was just after the first war, splashed all over the papers at the time. Twenty seven years ago, near enough to the day."

Mac looked thoughtful. "I was in high school then, not much more than a kid..." He spoke slowly, rifling through his memories. "But, yeah. I recall my parents talking about it at the time. As I remember it was big news even in the city."

Don nodded. "Sure was. I was still in diapers at the time, but Mom and Pop have filled me in on some of the details and Sid and Martha have supplied the rest."

"So what exactly happened to her?" Lindsay asked.

He gave a dry, quick laugh. "No one knows for sure. I guess I'd better start at the beginning so I don't get you guys muddled."

With his guests' rapt attention, he began to relate what he knew, as he had heard from his sources.

"As you guys know, Mrs Angell is a friend of Ma and Pop." He looked round at everyone, registering their interest before continuing, "So I know a bit about the family history. Just before the end of the First World War, the Angells had a daughter to complete their family. Seeing as the youngest of her four brothers was eighteen years older, Jessica was something of a surprise, but no doubt a welcome one – the two eldest sons had been killed in the war and their third and fourth sons had been injured – one left confined to a wheelchair and the other suffering from shell-shock." He glanced at Danny, reminding him of their earlier conversation and his friend gave him a brief nod.

"Her parents and her brothers adored her, near enough worshipped her," Don told his listeners, repeating now the housekeeper's words which had been told to him two afternoons ago while he had sat, elbows propped on the kitchen table, watching her kneading dough. "By all accounts, she was pretty much the perfect child – always happy, smiling, apparently didn't know what a tantrum was..."

"Unlike Lucy." Lindsay gave him a wry look and he grinned before continuing.

"All was good until a few days after her second birthday when she was left for the first time in sole charge of her nursemaid. Now, it seemed the nurse and the Angells' gardener were having some kind of relationship and took the opportunity to spend a little quality time together, leaving Jessica playing in the garden." For a moment he stopped, taking a sip of his drink to refresh his throat. "When the nurse finally remembered to check on her, there was no sign of the little girl anywhere."

"That much I remember," Mac spoke up and Don nodded.

"It's what most people know about the case. Of course," he continued, "they searched everywhere. According to Martha, they turned the house upside down: all the outbuildings; the cellar; went through the gardens and grounds with a fine-tooth comb; roped in whoever they could find to help them, including the Hammerbacks and most of the town..."

"And they found nothing," Stella said, her free hand stroking her stomach as she sent a quick look towards her husband, adding, "I've heard some of this from your parents and their friends, Don."

He nodded. "Stell's right. In Martha's words, it was as if she'd vanished off the face of the earth."

Giving a sigh, Lindsay murmured that there were so many places a little girl could be lost in. Sounds of agreement rose from the others before they lapsed into silence.

Don glanced round. "That's all most people know, but that's far from the end of the story..." he began. Faces looked startled, and strangely satisfied at the response, he told them, "Eventually, they did find something."

Imagining the scene as he did so, he described the search party's discovery of a sun-bonnet at the edge of a deep pond, just beyond the garden.

"Naturally the conclusion was that she'd fallen in and drowned," Don said sombrely. "The pond was too deep to search thoroughly, though they did what they could; but they found nothing. A little while after all this, the Angells had it fenced off and erected a stone in memory of their daughter."

"Those poor people." Stella's voice held sorrow. "So many tragedies..."

All his friends' faces were sober; Don, however, took the opportunity to suggest decamping to the living room, to which everyone was agreeable.

Once they had settled, Don pressed on with the story, recounting how after Jessica's disappearance, the nurse had left the household, followed by the gardener, both of them never to be heard from again.

"The Angells stayed in the house, I guess because they were reluctant to leave where they believed their daughter's last resting place was..." He paused; glancing at the Taylors, who were aware of most of the story, Stella having heard the details from many of the older women in her social circles - it was mainly for the benefit of the Messers that he told all he did. "As the years passed, Mr Angell's business gradually began to flounder, their crippled son still needed a lot of care and from what Martha's said it was all Mrs Angell could do to keep things together."

"So what made them leave and when?" Danny's question caused a faint smile to appear on Don's face.

He unwrapped his arms from his knees and flexed his hands. "Okay, almost fifteen years on from Jessica's disappearance, we have the Angell family, still never fully recovered from the loss of their baby daughter and two of their sons. They're stuck in a place they can only associate with tragedy, but they don't want to leave. Until news comes to them of an arrest in Georgia." Again he stopped, taking another sip from his drink before setting it down. "Remember our nurse and her beau, the gardener? It turned out that little Jessica's disappearance was not so accidental, or fatal, after all. The law finally caught up with them in Atlanta, trying the same stunt, and they confessed to the whole thing. They were a married couple, using numerous aliases, and had planned and executed the disappearance. Except it was no disappearance, it was a kidnapping to order, for money. And not the only one they'd pulled off either."

Surprised glances flew around the room and Don began to tie up the final threads of the story, telling how the pair had been in the pay of an organised racket, who sold young children and babies to couples desperate for a child of their own...

He took a surreptitious glance at Mac and Stella and continued rapidly, detailing how after Jessica Angell, they'd moved onto another family, then another. Each time gaining employment with a carefully chosen family, setting up a tragic disappearance which was followed by their own rapid departure.

Pausing to allow a sigh to slip from him, Don tipped up his glass and drained the dregs of his drink.

"Apparently a couple of the kids were traced, but with so many years passed since Jessica's kidnapping, they had no idea where she'd been taken or even if she was still alive." As he told his friends that, Martha's words rang in his mind: _vanished __off __the__ face __of __the __Earth_, like a knell for the lost.

He continued, however.

"Mr Angell died two years ago, leaving his wife a whole lot of debt, so she was finally persuaded to rent the place out," Don continued. "Mom played a big part in persuading her of that - you know Mom, when she sees a good idea and wants to convince someone of it there's no letting up..." He grinned, and the others smiled in amusement. "You got to admire Mrs Angell though, her husband left her with almost less than nothing, but she and her eldest son have taken over what was left of the business and are doing a darn good job of reviving it."

His mother had told him the recent history of the Angells and he had been impressed by the fortitude shown by Mrs Angell, who he had met only once - a slight, pale woman, but with steel in her eyes.

"And so here you are, with all of us here, too," Danny broke the short, contemplative silence and Don nodded, a slight grin on his face.

"Here we are; which Mom also had a lot to do with. Suggested I do me and Mrs Angell a favour and vacation here."

"Your Mom's a wise woman." Stella smiled. "I'm glad you took her advice."

"Would've been difficult not to," Don said wryly.

"Good for her." Danny smirked. "Until you find yourself a lady, you got to have someone keeping you in line..."

Sensing an imminent exchange of barbed comments between her husband and his best friend, Lindsay patted his knee. "Okay you guys, it's late, we're all tired, an early night isn't going to do any of us any harm."

"Yes, Aunt Lindsay." Don saluted, smirking, to which Lindsay responded with an icy stare. But it soon thawed to an affectionate look at him. "Anyhow," she said, standing up, "I want to go and make sure Lucy's okay. I don't want her waking up and being scared because she doesn't know where she is."

At the sudden shadow in her eyes, Don let any further teasing go. "Luce will be fine," he assured them, relieved when Lindsay smiled.

"I know," she said. "She's got her aunts and uncles as well as us to take care of her."

When they had gone, Don grinned at the sight of Stella trying to smother a yawn even as she insisted, "I'm not tired, Mac."

"I didn't say you were." He brushed the line of her jaw with his finger, "But after all that driving, bed seems kind of appealing right now." He raised his eyebrows and a look passed between the two of them, Stella, leaning her head against the back of the sofa gave her husband a considering look, before nodding, her hand covering her mouth as she yawned again.

"I guess it might be a good idea for you to have an early night and me to accompany you."

"I guess it would." Mac smiled.

They stood and Don rose to give them their goodnights, wishing them a restful night's sleep at the same time. As they walked up the staircase, he stood in the doorway of the living room, watching them – Mac with his arm round his wife's waist; Stella with his arm round him and her head on his shoulder. A thoughtful expression ghosted across his features before he sighed and decided to take a last look round the house. He moved round the rooms quietly checking the doors and windows as he made his way to his bedroom, where he pulled out the wilted flower from his buttonhole, tossed it on top of a bookcase and began to undress.

**Many thanks for reading. As always, I'd love to know what you think, so please spare a couple of minutes for a review. Lily x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes: Thanks again to _Ballettmaus_ for her help with this chapter and to _Suallenparker_ for some useful comments. **

**Thank you also to those who reviewed the previous chapter; please continue, it's great to know what you think.**

**A very Happy Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!  
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Chapter 5

After what felt like only seconds asleep, Don, entwined in a dizzying sequence of dreams, awoke. Eyes blurry, it took him a moment to untangle himself from sleep and all he had dreamed about. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, blinking as his vision adjusted. The night had paled to pearl, filtering through the drapes at the window and shafts of light shadows lay across the rug at the foot of the bed. With a groan for the earliness of the hour as he caught sight of his clock, he flopped back onto his pillows, covering his eyes with his forearm.

"_Way_ too early," he muttered, turned over, pulled the comforter over his head and buried his face into his pillow. His attempt to go back to sleep was futile, however, and he soon conceded defeat. Rolling out of bed, he got up and prepared to face the day.

Grumbling to himself, he shuffled over to the window and heaved up the sash. The sultry air promised another broiling hot day and even though he was dressed in only a pair of thin pyjama pants, his skin felt the caress of heat. Arms folded across his bare chest, he yawned as he gazed out at the garden. It lay in slumber, the soft dawn just beginning to rouse the birds and the murmuration of bees and other insects. Mist billowed above the grass, almost invisible and the sun, a hazy lemon disc, rose above the trees.

Don shaded his eyes and stared across the garden, soon catching sight of two figures walking hand in hand across the far lawn: Mac and Stella, the latter holding a handful of flowers. Though surprised to see Stella, he smiled at the sight, deciding with a sudden grin to surprise his friends with an early breakfast – if he could be fast enough.

Yanking on a T-shirt and a pair of light, khaki pants, he ruffled his fingers through his hair, ran downstairs and into the kitchen. A glance out of the window showed the Taylors still in the garden, wandering now along the terrace. With more haste than care, he put coffee on to boil and sawed wedges of bread from a new loaf, dropping them into the toaster with panache.

Sunlight beamed in through the high window, warming the tiles beneath his bare feet and he whistled as he prepared a hasty breakfast. It was ready just in time. As he dropped the last slice of buttered toast on a plate, the kitchen door opened and his two friends entered, stopping in surprise when they saw their host.

"Breakfast is served, your honours," Don waved his hand with a flourish and a wide smile, enjoying the expression on their faces.

"Am I dreaming, or do I really see Don Flack bright eyed and alert at..." Mac checked his watch, "6.30am?" His voice dry, he raised his eyebrows.

"I'm no dream. I'm as real as this here plate of toast, which is headed straight for a safe place in my stomach if you don't want it." Don smirked and Stella rolled her eyes.

"Not that we aren't grateful, but to what do we owe this honour?" she asked, amused as she and her husband followed Don out of the room and towards the porch.

"Woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep," he said laconically, swinging round to answer her and walking backwards for a few steps. "So I thought I'd take advantage of a beautiful day and do something nice for my early bird friends. I got to say, Stell, I'm surprised to see _you_ up and about so early..." He left his sentence trailing.

Stella pulled a face at him. "Usually you wouldn't see me, but as this baby seems to prefer sleeping in the daytime rather than at night, I'm spending half the night awake and half the afternoon asleep at the moment."

"Hey, you're on vacation here, if you want to spend the day sleeping, no one's going to complain," Don said, while ushering her and Mac through into the porch ahead of him, "As long as you're okay?"

A hint of exasperation was evident in her answer. "I'm okay, Don, really. You don't need to ask."

"Just checking." He grinned, taking it lightly although he was aware of the trace of worry in Mac's face.

But he let the matter go for the moment as he swooped round, pulling out chairs for them and setting the tray down on a small folding table, before he followed up his earlier comment, "So, either of you catch any of the proverbial worms?"

"Not a one," Mac answered as he accepted the cup of coffee Stella passed him as she continued.

"But we did find the most amazing amounts of flowers, I hope it's okay for us to have picked some?" She laid down the dew-spattered stems of roses, honeysuckle and peonies she held, the rose stems having been wrapped in leaves to protect from thorns.

Don shrugged. "Pick as many as you like, garden's full of 'em. Isn't it supposed to be good for some things to be picked? Anyhow, pick away, Martha gets the flowers for the vases from the garden. It's grown kind of wild in places, she's complained to me about that..."

"There's no one who comes to tend the grounds?" Stella asked.

"Only an old guy who comes up from the town twice a week and must be at least ninety, judging by what I saw of him the other day. According to Mrs H, he's neither use nor ornament and it probably isn't going to be long before he's pushing up the daisies rather than trampling them down."

"Well I'm sure Lucy will enjoy exploring the overgrown parts of the garden," Mac remarked, to which Don grinned.

"Which is exactly what we've got planned for the day. Feel free to join us," he added irreverently, his grin widening.

Stella gave him a crooked smile. "I think we'll pass up the invitation. You and Lucy have fun in the jungle. Anyhow," she continued, "I like the garden as it is. It's a nice change from all these formal gardens people have, with everything laid out in perfect angles and lines. You know the sort, where you're almost scared to breathe in case you mess up the manicured lawns and the symmetrical pink flamingos," she finished wryly, glancing at Mac, who chuckled.

"I know exactly whose garden you're referring to." He gave her knee a gentle squeeze and grinned at her. Stella narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her mouth, embarrassed amusement in her face.

"Oh? What's the story here? Spill, you guys." Don wiggled his eyebrows at the couple.

Mac was happy to relate the tale, with his wife interjecting her comments now and again. One of the NYPD's chiefs, while hosting a recent summer garden party, had apparently taken great offence at Stella walking across a neat piece of grass to retrieve a little girl's ribbon when it had blown into the lower branches of a cherry tree.

"I don't know what upset him most," Stella said in a scornful tone, "The fact I'd walked on his precious lawn in sandals with the smallest heel you could possibly imagine, or that I'd snapped off a piece of blossom to give to the kid because she was upset. He's a cranky old misery."

Don sniggered. "So am I safe to assume Brigham Sinclair will _not_ be requesting the pleasure of Mrs Taylor's company at his garden parties any time soon?"

Giggling suddenly, Stella was about to reply when a faint sound made Don hold up his hand to hush her. With the other hand gripping the arm of his chair and his head angled towards the origin of the sound, he listened. For a few moments, they sat in silence; Mac and Stella curious, Don frowning in concentration, until he heard the sound again.

"You hear that?" he hissed to his friends.

Both shook their heads, puzzled, glancing at each other. Another couple of seconds passed and Don was about to, reluctantly, declare himself mistaken, when the sound came again. This time he was able to identify it – the softest tap of a hand on wood. Bounding out of his chair, he hurried to the front door. Aware of Mac and Stella following close behind him, he reached the hallway, his bare feet slithering on the tiles. The tapping came again, softer still and yet more desperate somehow. He wrenched the door open, in time to catch hold of a dark-haired young woman who collapsed into his arms.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews very welcome :) Lily x<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: Thanks again to _Ballettmaus_ for her help with this chapter and to _Suallenparker_ for some useful comments and for inspiring me with the snails :D **

**Thank you also to those who reviewed the previous chapter and my Christmas one-shot! Please continue to review, I love knowing what you think.**

**I hope 2012 is going well for you so far :)  
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Chapter 6

An exclamation came from behind Don and in a moment, Mac and Stella were at either side of him; Mac taking some of the young woman's limp weight, Stella suggesting they carry her into the porch.

Don shook his head, his natural pragmatism taking over, telling them he would take the woman to the living room, seeing as it was cooler in there, and asking Stella if she could fetch some water.

She was already hurrying towards the kitchen for that purpose, however, so with Mac offering a helping hand, Don lifted the woman into his arms and carried her through to the living room. Once there, Mac cleared the cushions off the couch so he could lay her down and Stella reappeared seconds later, a tumbler full of water in her hand.

"How is she?" she asked, passing the glass to Don. "Should we call the doctor?"

He had knelt down at the woman's side. Studying her face and seeing her eyelashes start to flicker, he frowned. "Seems to be just a faint... I think she's coming to..."

At that instant, her eyes opened, blinked once or twice and then focused; a startled look flashing into them.

"Who...?" she croaked, struggling to sit up.

"Whoa, wait up. Just lie back a minute." Don put a gentle hand on her shoulder, feeling how warm her skin was through the thin cotton shirt she wore. "Here, have some water, it's mighty hot out there already, you've probably suffered a touch of sunstroke or something." Feeling a little out of his depth, he had grasped at likely explanations, hoping not to worry the young woman, and hoping it was nothing more serious that had caused her collapse.

A moment's hesitation and the woman accepted the glass with a shaky hand, sipping slowly at first and then gulping down the rest of the contents. A faint pink showed in her cheeks. "Sorry, I was thirstier than I realised."

Smiling, Don took the glass from her. "Feel better?"

She nodded, sighing, passing her hand across her forehead. "Yes... thank you. I guess it probably _was_ sunstroke..." Her eyes, a rich shade of brown, held his, and held on. He noticed how her eyes were fringed with long, black lashes and her eyebrows, black and delicate, arched above them... Only Mac shifting from his position behind the couch reminded him of the others' presence. For the first time she, too, seemed to become aware of the couple who shared the room with them. The dusting of pink on her cheeks spread. "I'm awfully sorry..."

"There's no need to apologise," Stella said, her voice kind and comforting. "It was lucky we were here and awake and you made it to the house."

"Do you mind if we ask where you've come from, Miss...?" Mac asked. "Is there someone we can call for you? There's a telephone in the house."

The young woman shook her head, causing the loose ponytail she wore her hair in to swing. "I'm Jennifer, Jennifer Lannis, and I don't mind at all you asking. At the very least, after fainting on your doorstep, I owe you an explanation..."

"You don't owe us anything, Miss Lannis," Don interrupted, getting to his feet, as she swung her legs down and sat herself up straighter. "We're happy we could be of help." He followed his remark with a quick introduction of himself, Mac and Stella by first names and she smiled her eyes aglow as the sun caught light in them.

"Thank you, and please, Miss Lannis is my Aunt Florence who's seventy and happily unmarried. I'm Jennifer." A little embarrassed still, she continued, "And I honestly _don't _make a habit of turning up on the doorsteps of complete strangers and promptly fainting when they open the door."

"Really? Young women faint into my arms all the time when I open front doors," Don remarked in deadpan tones, hoping to put her at her ease.

She blushed, but then a glint appeared in her eye. "Well, they were certainly a very safe pair of arms to faint into..." Looking thoughtful, she added, "I don't think I've ever fainted before in my life. I'm lucky such nice people were around when it happened. It was really my own fault though..." She paused, glanced around, face pink seeming to realise she was starting to ramble, before she continued, her voice a little more secure, "I've been hiking in the area for the last couple of days, camping out at different sites. I was headed for my next site late yesterday evening, planning to grab something to eat there, misjudged my timing and ended up hopelessly lost when it got dark. I must have spent half the night walking round in circles." Her face pursed into a wry look. "There was one particular fallen pine tree I remember passing at least half a dozen times, by the third time I passed it, I was ready to kick the darn thing..." She caught Don's eye and he grinned at her, prompting a rueful grin in return as she carried on. "Anyhow, after several hours, I gave up, made the best shelter I could from that same pine tree and fell asleep. I woke up just before dawn and more by luck than any sense of direction, I found myself here; saw the cars on the drive which suggested someone was inside, and knocked on the door... The rest you know." Her shoulders lifted in a small, deprecating shrug, although it was clear that she had no little self-possession and confidence.

Don felt his eyebrows must be stuck to his hairline. That a young woman of her slight build - though she was certainly not frail – was camping and hiking by herself and had spent the night alone in the wilderness had left him almost dry of words, but filled with intrigue and not a little attraction.

"More than good luck!" he managed to exclaim finally. "Providence, I'd call it. Weren't you afraid of, I don't know... bears, wolves, whatever out there? Anything could have happened to you." He paused, staring at her, wondering then at his outburst of concern for a stranger. Modifying his tone, calming his words, he added, "And what about your folks? You didn't tell us if there's someone we can call for you. Surely they're going to be worried about you?"

This time her hands lifted in a gesture of unconcern. "I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself. And anyhow," she continued in a matter-of-fact voice, "There is no one you can call for me. Apart from Aunt Florence, I'm entirely on my own and as she doesn't know I'm here, there's no one who'll be worrying about me."

With much that he wanted to ask, Don remained dumbstruck. She looked at him, he at her, until her eyes lowered and she sighed again, before sweeping her gaze back to Don and announcing in artificially bright tones, "Well, I've probably taken up enough of your day, and it's an unsociable hour for callers anyhow, so I'd best be going. There shouldn't be any problem finding the campsite now it's light..."

"You'll do no such thing." Finding his voice Don spoke with a half-fierce determination, surprising both himself and the others. Seeing Jennifer bristle, he raised his hands palm-up, signalling apology and mollified his tone. "Sorry, all I meant was that you should stay and have some breakfast with us at least, Jennifer, seeing as you haven't drunk or eaten anything since yesterday..." The thought made his stomach growl in empathy and he grinned at the smothered snort of laughter from Stella, who sobered though to add her opinion that not eating properly or drinking enough would lead her to being ill in the heat of the day.

"It's no trouble to give you breakfast, please consider yourself a guest," she continued, when Jennifer murmured something about not wanting them to be put to any trouble. "We can introduce ourselves properly over coffee and toast - I always think it's so much friendlier to do that. And I think the baby and I could probably eat something else, too." Stella smiled and Jennifer relaxed and returned the smile.

"There's plenty of bread for toast, plenty of other food, still some coffee in the pot. I can fry up some eggs, mushrooms, bacon... whatever takes your fancy," Don told her, hopefully. Putting his hands on his knees, he smiled down with a twinkle in his eye at their unexpected guest. "Now how can you refuse an offer like that, huh?"

Jennifer grinned back up at him. "You've made it awfully difficult for me to refuse..."

"So I guess that settles things?" he said hopefully.

"I guess it does," Jennifer replied and Don's smile broadened.

"Stay right where you are..." Aware then of how he sounded, he disarmed himself with a grin, "And by the way, feel free to call me all kinds of bossy in my absence, or to my face."

Her smile had a hint of mischief in it, which kindled a spark inside him. "You know, bossy is a word I've had used about me many times...

The smile on his lips spread and he gave a laugh as he folded his arms across his chest. "Then I guess that means we've got something in common."

"I guess so," she said, "But I appreciate the concern behind it, thank you," she added in a gentler tone, which disarmed him even more, and noticing out of the edge of his eye, the knowing smiles which Mac and Stella shared with each other, heat rushed to the tips of his ears and he flustered through his next few words, mumbled something about coffee and toast and hurried out of the room.

It was only as he reached the kitchen that he realised Mac had followed him.

"I thought it might be kind of overwhelming with the two of us there. Stella will put her at her ease," he said, reaching for the bread, before he fixed Don with a look and the hint of a smirk curling his lips. "Are you okay? I thought something had bitten you, you were out of that room so fast."

"Real funny, Mac," he scoffed, rattling the coffee pot to disguise how rattled he was himself.

Mac laughed softly, but for the next couple of minutes, their preparations continued in silence and Don felt himself regaining his equilibrium. Chopping up mushrooms and laying overlapping slices of bacon in the frying pan further restored his composure.

"That was certainly unexpected." Mac paused in the act of slicing neat, regular rounds of bread to look at his friend.

With a soft whistle, Don shook his head. "She took a real risk wandering about in the woods round here, especially after dark. Okay, I might be a city kid born and bred, but I've done my share of camping in the great outdoors and the Hammerbacks made sure that was almost the first thing they told me when I got here – the wildlife was here first and don't like folk trespassing on their territory."

Bread knife hovering above the loaf, Mac studied him, remarking that it was fortunate that she had found her way to the house. Resuming his cutting, he added, "If she's agreeable to it, I'll offer to drive her to the nearest campsite when Danny and I head into town later."

Don glowered and grunted something non-committal, finding the thought of Jennifer's departure from the house unpleasant to contemplate and chopped the last of the mushrooms fiercely. As he looked up, he saw Mac watching him, a smile playing on his lips. "Alternatively, you could ask her if she wants to spend the day here." Taking the slices of bread, he placed them in the toaster and set it. Don's mind oscillated: certainly, he could ask her and if she agreed, they could spend some time talking; he could show her round the house, the gardens, maybe even go for a drive. On the other hand, he retreated at the thought of asking a young woman he had only just met to spend the day with people who were strangers. What would she think of him for asking that?

As he thought that, however, to the forefront of his mind, came resolve. It had never troubled him before what people might and might not think of him.

"She's entirely at liberty to refuse," Mac pointed out and he nodded slowly.

"I guess so... Though, I don't want to put any pressure on her..." The coffee he had begun to pour slopped over the side of the mug, his mind having been occupied with his thoughts, and Mac handed him a cloth, his expression eloquent.

"Of course. And she'd likely appreciate all of her coffee in the cup," he remarked, to which Don mumbled something about Mac sounding more and more like Stella the longer they were married as he wiped up the spilled liquid, splashing more of it about than he soaked up. As soon as the cloth had been tossed into the sink, ignoring Mac's chuckle, he loaded up the breakfast tray and bore it through to the living room, mind made up.

"Breakfast is served... again." He set it down on a small table with a flourish, enjoying his role as host.

"A girl could get used to this." Stella threw a merry glance at her husband who had sat down next to her, his legs crossed neatly as he grinned, remarking that it was Don who had done all the hard work.

Jennifer smiled her thanks. "I'm impressed, very impressed. This looks wonderful. It's been quite some time since I've had someone prepare breakfast for me."

"Enjoy it. I enjoyed myself preparing it," Don said as he sat down on the couch next to her and passed a mug of coffee to her.

"Maybe we can persuade him to prepare lunch, too," Stella said with an arched eyebrow before directing her next sentence to Don himself. "Seeing as I've persuaded Jennifer to stay for lunch, which knowing you, Don, probably isn't going to be too many hours away."

"Hey, I'm a growing man with a healthy appetite," he protested, taking a slice of toast off the plate, pleased the offer had been made to Jennifer about lunch, although a little disappointed he hadn't been able to ask her himself. Still, there was always an invitation to dinner he could give her later. "And considering I'm usually told I'm too skinny and need fattening up, what's a guy to do? Anyhow," he finished up loftily, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You should know that, Stell."

She grinned. "I do, and even if I didn't, Mac would make sure of it." She sent him a knowing smile. Noticing Jennifer's querying look, she explained how during her confinement to bed, Mac had brought her a light breakfast each day of peppermint tea and dry crackers, the only things she was able to stomach. She ended with her gaze meeting her husband's, the two of them exchanging a brief, silent communication.

Jennifer watched them, smiling, addressing Mac with the comment that it was a very sweet thing to do.

Mac answered gruffly, seeming less comfortable than Stella was to share information with a stranger. "I wanted to make sure Stella was getting something to eat, that seemed the best way to do it."

"And of course, it gave her plenty of time to get on with her knitting," Don couldn't help contributing with a smirk.

"You knit? That's great," Jennifer said with admiration, looking surprised at the snickers that came from Don, the grin Mac couldn't suppress and the glare Stella cast at them. "I said something funny?" she asked, bewildered.

Don shook his head, swallowing his laughter. "No, no you didn't, not really..." He glanced at Stella, who gave a resigned sigh.

"Seeing as these two are going to give me away, I might as well tell you myself, Jennifer," she said, continuing to tell their guest about her failed attempts at knitting.

"You certainly produced some unique things," Don chuckled.

Stella glowered, then gave up and laughed. "I leave all that sort of thing to Lindsay; she's got real talent for it." She turned to Jennifer, telling her with enthusiasm about the clothes Lindsay produced for herself and Lucy, both knitted and stitched. "If you want the truth, I'm envious of her skill," Stella concluded.

"I'd love to be able to do that." Jennifer smiled. "But I'm sorry to say that me and a needle and thread don't get along. Knitting though, I'd love to learn."

"You could ask Linds when you meet her," Don said as he speared another forkful of breakfast. "She'd be happy to teach you."

Flustered, Jennifer made a small, nervous gesture with her hands. "That's awfully nice of you to suggest, but I'm a complete stranger to her..."

"So?" Don glanced between her and Mac, whose expression was set in a thoughtful frown.

It was Stella though who spoke, giving Jennifer a reassuring smile as she did so, telling her that Lindsay would be delighted to meet her and to teach her some of what she knew.

"I second what Stell says," Don added, swallowing his mouthful as he did; adding, when he saw the pinkly embarrassed cheeks of their guest, "Honestly, Linds would be happy to teach you if you want to ask her."

"Well, I might ask her then," Jennifer said and Don nodded, happy with the resolution.

For a few minutes, they ate in a companionable silence until Stella sat back with a contented sigh and an empty plate.

"That was good. My compliments to the chefs." She grinned at her husband, raising her hand to cup his cheek.

Jennifer smiled, laying her knife and fork cross-ways on her empty plate. "That was the best breakfast I've had in a long time. You can't beat honest to goodness, home-cooked food."

"Agreed," Don said decisively, causing Mac to break into a smile.

"Don is a man who takes his food and his eating seriously."

"And I make no apology for that," the man in question said, patting his stomach. "Give me some plain, old-fashioned home cooking any day over all this fancy stuff you see around now."

Jennifer gave him an impish grin. "You wouldn't have liked some of the meals I had to eat in France, during the war. I was in Normandy for a while, working as a nurse," she explained, seeing the questioning looks from her listeners, detailing then how she had been billeted with an elderly couple, poor but generous, whose son had visited one weekend, bringing them a delicacy they were keen to share. She paused to take a sip of coffee. "I couldn't refuse as that would have been to insult them. Consequently, I found myself eating snails roasted in garlic for breakfast."

His fork, loaded with mushrooms and bacon, halted half-way to his mouth. "Snails?" he echoed, quailing at the thought.

"Snails," Jennifer nodded, eyes twinkling above the rim of her mug. "Once I got past the first mouthful, they really weren't so bad..."

Don gulped and almost bit down on the tines of his fork so eager was he to get the taste of fried food into his mouth and rid his mind of the imagined taste of cooked gastropod. Aware of soft sniggers coming from the Taylors chiming with Jennifer's chuckle, Don swallowed rapidly and prepared to retort. The creak of the opening living room door stopped him. Four pairs of eyes turned towards it.

"Uncle Don?" a little voice in eager tones asked "Is that the lady you're going to dance with until I've growed tall?"

A sound, which was suspiciously like a laugh being smothered came from Stella as, clutching an assortment of stuffed animals, Lucy Messer pushed the door open and pattered across the carpet. With no one knowing quite what to say, they watched the little girl let a shower of animals fall into the seat of the largest armchair in the room before she clambered into it herself, placing her hands on the armrests and beaming round at everyone.

"You're up early, Lucy-Lou," Stella, the first to regain her voice, said, smiling at the little girl. "Couldn't you sleep any longer?"

Lucy shook her head, the blonde curls dancing. "I woke up 'cause the babies were fussing, so I had to take them for a walk," she said, indicating the collection heaped up round her. "Did your baby fuss and wake you up, Aunt Stella?" Solemn eyes fixed on Stella, who nodded, Don and the other two adults watching the exchange.

"Yes, my baby fussed a bit and woke me up."

Lucy heaved a sigh, propping her elbows on her knees and chin on her fists. "You got to tell your baby to go back to sleep," she said sternly.

"Did you tell _your _babies that?" Stella asked in a serious tone, yet with a twinkle in her eyes as she darted a glance at the others. Don, rather disconcerted, caught the amusement in Jennifer's eyes and the slight stiffness in Mac.

Still with her chin balanced on her fists, Lucy nodded. "Uh huh, I sure did. But they didn't listen 'cause they wanted to go take a look around."

Stella understood perfectly. "My baby wanted to take a look around the garden. Maybe we could look at it later together?"

But the little girl's attention had returned to Jennifer with renewed interest. "What's your lady's name, Uncle Don? Is she a stranger? 'Cause if she's a stranger, I can't talk to her. Mommy says I can't talk to strangers." She remained staring, unabashed, at the young woman while asking Don her questions.

"Well, your Mom's right saying that about strangers," Don said recovering his poise after both the shock of her appearance and her unique wisdom. "But it's okay: this is Jennifer and she's not a stranger anymore. Your Uncle Mac and Aunt Stella and me have made friends with her and when your Mom and Dad meet her, they're going to make friends, too."

Head tilted to one side, finger now pressed into the dimple on her chin, Lucy considered before she nodded. "Okay."

She slid down from her seat, walked over to Jennifer and held out her small hand. "Pleased to meet you, how'd you do? I'm Lucy."

Face straight, Jennifer accepted the hand, gave it a light shake and returned the greeting. "Pleased to meet you, too, Lucy. You have beautiful manners and what a lovely collection of babies. What are their names?"

The little girl beamed. "Some of them are on my bed 'cause I couldn't carry them all, but..."

"Lucy! There you are... oh!" The startled voice of Lindsay Messer broke into the conversation and another member of the Messer family stood in the doorway, stock-still and staring.

Lucy reacted with aplomb, explanations spilling forth as she rushed over to her mother. "Mommy, this is Jennifer and she likes my babies and Uncle Don. And Aunt Stella woke up, too, 'cause of her baby, just like me and can I have some breakfast please? I'm hungry."

Lindsay looked at the other adults in helpless bewilderment; however, Mac came to her rescue outlining the situation in brief with Lucy chirping remarks now and again.

Pushing her loose hair out of her eyes, Lindsay wrapped her flower-print housecoat closer round her and gave Jennifer a harassed smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Jennifer," she said before asking them all to excuse her and bearing off her still chattering daughter to get dressed before breakfast. When they had left the room, Mac and Stella gave each other a secretive glance and Stella volunteered, almost forcibly, to clear away the breakfast dishes. Before Don could offer a word of protest, she had coordinated herself and Mac into action, leaving Don alone with Jennifer.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews very welcome :) Lily x<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes: Thanks again to _Ballettmaus_ ****and _Suallenparker_**** for their help with this chapter.  
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**Thank you also to those who reviewed the previous chapter, please do continue to review, your comments are really helpful and I love getting them :)  
><strong>

Chapter 7

As Mac and Stella left the room, Don smiled at Jennifer, seeing his self-consciousness mirrored in her face. That seemed to ease his. It was she who suggested they retrieve her backpack from the front porch and he was happy to assist.

A blast of humid air greeted them as they stepped out of the door and Don felt the sweat sliding down his back and chest, even though it was barely 8 o'clock in the morning. Curling wisps of hair had escaped from Jennifer's ponytail and she swept them out of her eyes, squinting to avoid the sun as she looked at him. He looked at her, liking what he saw.

"I know my bag's unlikely to come to any harm out here," she said, "but I'd prefer knowing it was indoors. And this weather could turn stormy later. It's so hot."

Removing his gaze from her, Don glanced up at the sky, metallic blue in the burgeoning heat. He looked back at Jennifer and saw the garden quivering in the distance behind her. "Sure. This is the hottest day we've had this year, I should think."

She nodded, smiling. "Hottest day of the year and Midsummer day, too." He returned her smile and for a moment, they simply stood there until a hint of awkwardness materialised in her face. "Actually, weather aside, would there be any chance of, you know, freshening up, changing my clothes? If I'm joining you all for lunch as a guest, it doesn't seem quite the thing to appear in clothes I've spent the night in."

Hastening to remove any possible discomfort, Don assured her there was no problem with that. "You can use the bathroom in the old nursery," he suggested while he swung her backpack onto one shoulder. "Take as long as you want, use whatever you want. It's kitted out with soap, sponges, all the essentials," he offered easily, surprised in the back of his mind how easy it was to talk with a woman he'd met only an hour ago. She smiled her thanks and they re-entered the house, both glad to be inside the cool interior once more.

On their way, they passed the kitchen, its open door communicating the sound of Lucy's chatter, her parents' replies and Mac and Stella's voices in the background as they washed up.

"I'll introduce you to them all properly later," Don said as they continued and Jennifer nodded her thanks.

"So you're all here for the next couple of weeks?" she asked, her gaze on him as they mounted the stairs.

"Yep, vacation for all of us. A chance for an unsociable bachelor to break out of his lonely existence and spend time with his married, yet sympathetic friends..." His expression remained straight-faced as he spoke even though his eyes were creasing with humour.

Jennifer threw him a sceptical look. "I'm not completely buying you being a _lonely_ bachelor seeing as you're spending a vacation with friends."

The serious expression on Don's face cracked and he laughed. "Okay, so maybe I'm misquoting my Mom a little there. I think her exact words were, 'Donald, you're going to end up a lonely old bachelor if you're not careful'. Because my brother and sister are married and settling down with kids on the way, she wonders why her other son isn't doing the same."

An enigmatic smile hovered round Jennifer's mouth. "Well, if something's meant to be, then it will be. I guess the right lady's out there somewhere for you."

"I guess she is..." Their gazes met, and though only momentary, it seemed to hold a power that shocked him, caused him to tear away and turn the conversation to other matters.

"Have you got any brothers or sisters?" he asked, hoisting her backpack higher onto his shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs.

Jennifer ran the palm of her hand along the banister and round the wooden sphere on the newel post as she shook her head. "There's only me. No brothers or sisters – my parents adopted me when I wasn't much more than a baby. My Aunt Florence and I are the last of the Lannis family. Mom and Dad died just before the war in a car accident, neither of them had any family left, apart from Florence who's my Dad's older sister."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Don said sincerely, though he felt his words were inadequate, "That must have been rough on you." He thought then of Stella, wondering if she would understand better than he could given her past.

Jennifer shrugged again, her eyes, however, averted. "It was a terrible shock at the time, of course. I was in a bad state for weeks afterwards, but... it was nearly six years ago. Don't get me wrong," she raised her eyes to meet his gaze and he saw the not quite hidden emotions in there, "There isn't a day goes by that I don't think about my parents, wonder what they would have thought of what I was doing, wish I could show them the things I've seen, but they-they wouldn't have wanted me to be miserable. You have to keep going. Life doesn't stop." Her pace slowed as she cast him a quick glance.

Don smiled, softly, encouraging her to continue, wanting to hear more.

Hesitating for only a moment, her gaze holding this, seeming to draw something from it, she carried on, "We lived in Minnesota and then when I was six or seven, Mom and Dad decided they wanted to see Europe and the rest of the world, so from then on we spent our time hopping from one country to the next."

Thinking of his own childhood, spent until he was 18 in the same brownstone in New York, Don remarked, "Sounds like an interesting life."

Jennifer looked thoughtful. "Interesting, yes... but not always easy. It was kind of difficult to keep friends when I was always moving on. But then I never felt lonely, it wasn't difficult to make new friends and I never felt like I lacked anything. I guess there was just too much to see and explore." She smiled, a glint of mischief lighting her eyes. "Like the time we were in England, in Liverpool, and I decided I wanted to go across the Mersey on the ferries, so I slipped away from my parents, paid my fare and ran aboard. When the ferry got back to the dock, there were Mom and Dad at the water's edge. They hardly waited for the gangplank to come down before they jumped aboard and whisked me off." She looked wistful then. "I was only around eight at the time, and had no clue of how worried they'd been when they realised they'd lost sight of me."

Don chuckled. "Reminds me of when I was a kid and took a fancy to taxi cabs. I found every opportunity I could for hitching a ride in them. Mom and Pop got wise after a while and Pop, being a Detective, sent out instructions to all the cab drivers that if I got in a cab, I was to be taken straight back home."

The moment of sobriety fleeted from Jennifer and she grinned at him. "Sounds like you had a pretty interesting childhood, too." With a shyer smile forming, she added, "I'd like to hear more about it later."

His smile broadened, considering that they seemed to have more than a few things in common. "Sure." They were silent for a moment, exchanging a half-shy glance, before he asked another question. "You carried on travelling after your parents died?"

She nodded. "They left me a legacy which has allowed me a lot of independence - I've been able to travel, to see more of Europe and my own country, and I'm grateful to them for that." Her face grew bright. "But I think the greater legacy they left me was telling me right from when I was a little kid that anything was possible, I just had to go out and try it, so... that's what I try and do."

"I can see that," he said quietly, and again, they shared a glance and a smile. They walked along the rest of the landing in a comfortable silence, their arms brushing each other's and Don did not find it difficult to imagine his fingers holding hers. He studied her, out of the corner of his eyes, realising with a shock of almost electricity that he wanted to find out much more about her.

Enjoying the sight and her enjoyment, he watched her gaze travelling round the landing; the pictures that caught the light, the furniture placed along the walls.

"This is a beautiful house," she sighed, delicate fingers running along the bevelled edge of a bookcase. They both stopped when she crouched down in front of the leather-bound volumes it contained, peering at them, tracing the titles on the spines with her fingertips.

"Sure is." Don looked down at her. "Wouldn't mind owning it myself." He grinned. "If I owned a place like this, you'd never get me back in the city."

Standing up again, she smiled at him as they continued. "What do you do in the city?"

"Detective with the NYPD, following in my Pop's footsteps, which is partly how I know Mac. But having managed an attack of bronchitis followed by pneumonia, I'm currently on sick leave." The fact still galled him if he thought about it, but in mentioning it to Jennifer, he was surprised to find he had become resigned to the situation, even accepting of it.

"And you're counting the days until you're back?" she asked.

The answer he expected to fall out of his mouth did not happen; instead, Don's steps slowed and he frowned. "Actually... no. I _was_ - heck, I almost had a stand-up row with the Doc when he refused to let me return to work straight away, but the last few days here, it's been pretty good. Peaceful, I guess." His forehead crinkled as he sought to clarify the reasons. "Maybe I did need some time out. Kind of hard to explain, but maybe I'd even go so far as saying the time's going too fast here. I've been here almost a week, yet it seems like I've hardly set foot in the place." Feeling a little discomfited, he shrugged. "If you know what I mean..."

She smiled, softly. "I do, really." Her gaze roamed round again, absorbing all it alighted upon. "It feels a special sort of place. I'd... I'd describe it as having a good feel to it; kindly... if that doesn't sound too crazy to call a house 'kindly'."

Her self-conscious smile made him relax and confide further in her. "Not crazy at all. In fact, I guess I felt the same way about it the moment I stepped into the place."

"Then I guess we're kindred spirits of a sort," she said softly. The smile spread across her face, luminous suddenly in the citrine-coloured rays that floated through the windows. The air in the house, moved by a whisper of a breeze from open windows was rich with the scents of midsummer. Caught, willingly, in a moment of enchantment, Don was aware of a slow breath leaving his chest, stilled until Jennifer's fingers on his hand stirred him.

"How about after I've freshened up, you show me round the house and gardens?"

Grasping at the question, Don managed to answer, "I'd like that very much."

Then, the door to the nursery lay ahead of them and he strode forward to open it, stepping back to let Jennifer pass through while he recaptured his breath.

Though the nursery had been abandoned since Jessica Angell's disappearance and dust and cobwebs left to run rampant, Martha had unlocked the door and banished the neglect when she knew the house would be let. The sash windows were raised and the rapidly warming air stirred the drapes.

"Cute, huh?" Don gave a grandiose wave of his hand, about to launch into the story of the room when something about Jennifer's attitude left the words dead on his lips. One hand gripping the doorframe, she stood with her features immobile and her eyes seeming lost elsewhere. "Jennifer? You okay?" He touched her shoulder and startling, she turned to him, confusion in her face. "Something the matter?" Concerned that she had still not recovered fully from her ordeal, he kept his hand on her shoulder.

Her gaze swept round the room before it returned to him and she blinked, seeming to reorient herself.

"Uh... No, no, nothing's the matter. I'm fine, I'm sorry. Had a sort of moment of someone walking over my grave, even though that's the most horrible expression..." Her voice was hoarse and Don studied her closely. "How about I fetch you another drink of water while you run your bath?" he offered in as casual a manner as possible. With a grateful smile and a 'thank you', she accepted.

"The bathroom's through that door," he told her, gesturing to it. "There are towels in there, too. Like I said, everything you need." Again, she uttered her thanks and dipping his head, he left her standing in the middle of the room.

He hurtled down the back stairs, through to the now empty kitchen in a whirlwind, catching up a tumbler and sloshing water into it. From the living room he heard the sounds of his friends' voices. As soon as they caught sight of him, he had no doubt whatsoever that he would be cross-examined, mostly by Danny, and he was keen to avoid that right now. As quickly and quietly as he could, he darted back up the stairs, three at a time, and arrived back at the nursery with about half the water still left in the glass.

To his surprise, he heard no sound of water running. Instead, he saw as he entered, that Jennifer stood by the far window, in front of a little shelf of toys, holding a jointed, gold and orange-coloured teddy bear and studying it intently. His foot creaked on a floorboard, thwarting his hope to approach without startling her, and she whirled round, an almost guilty look on her face.

"Your water." He held it out to her, keeping his face neutral and not wanting to embarrass her.

"Thank you." She took it and her expression became sheepish. "I haven't actually turned the taps on yet..."

"It's okay, there's no time limit." Don grinned. He had no issue with her looking at the toys that had been left in the nursery. When he had first explored the house, he had spent more time in the nursery than any of the other rooms. What had attracted him most had been the stately old rocking horse that stood underneath the window. His faded dappled coat had been lovingly washed by Martha and his sparse mane and tail combed. Without knowing quite why, he wanted to linger a little longer, and so he stepped over to the horse and patted the top of his head, saying conversationally, "You know, I always wanted one of these guys. Shame I'm too big for him now."

Setting the bear down, with reluctance, Jennifer smiled faintly and came over, laying a hand on the horse's mane. "He's adorable. I wonder what his name is..." Her head on one side, she gazed at the horse, while from the recesses of Don's memory came the name that Martha had mentioned to him.

"His name's..."

"Jack." Jennifer was too quick for him and seemed almost to startle herself. "He... he looks a little bit like a 'Jack'," she said hurriedly in explanation at his questioning look.

Her face held a queer expression, half-puzzled, half-wary, but she recovered herself, giving a light laugh. "I guess I'm pretty good at guessing... no pun intended." She swung away from the horse, sweeping up her backpack from the bed and holding it in front of her. "I should probably take my bath and get changed; I don't want to hold up lunch."

"I'd never allow that," Don smirked, teasing as he rubbed between the ears of the rocking horse. "Honestly, it's no problem. We've got a couple of hours yet before the others will let me even consider lunch, unless Stella needs to eat something before then of course." He grinned, hoping that might be the case. "I'll go entertain them downstairs and you can join us when you're ready. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good." She smiled; her arms relaxing and the backpack lowering.

"Okay, great." He nodded, feeling awkward again as he ran his hands through his hair and realised that since waking up, he hadn't run so much as a comb through it.

Jennifer, equally, seemed flustered as she gestured towards the bathroom door. "I'll, uh, go and turn the taps on..."

"Sure, yeah, I'll-I'll see you in a little while." Walking backwards, Don winced as he stumbled and almost lost his balance over the old wooden cradle on the floor, before turning round and rushing out, closing the door behind him.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Reviews very welcome :) Lily x<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes: Thank you very much to _Ballettmaus_ ****and _Suallenparker_**** for their help.  
><strong>

**Thanks also to those who reviewed the previous chapter, please do continue to review, your comments are really helpful and I love getting them :)**

**Apologies for the delay in updating this. And apologies also for the chapter apparently going missing :S Thanks to _Blue Shadowdancer_ for alerting me to that! **

Chapter 8

With a whoosh of breath, Don leaned his head back against the nursery door and rubbed his hands down his face before making his way downstairs. He went more slowly this time, trying to banish certain inappropriate thoughts which had invaded his mind involving the dark-haired young woman and the large bathtub in the nursery bathroom.

By the time he reached the living room, his cheeks had cooled and he was able to enter in a casual manner, hands thrust in his pockets. He smiled at the sight that met him from the doorway and he stood watching for a moment, enjoying seeing his friends happy and relaxed. Mac stood by the window, hands in pockets, gazing out over the garden; Stella sat with her legs curled under her on the couch, a few cushions behind her back and a book on the table beside her; Danny sat playing pat-a-cake with his daughter and Lindsay sat next to Stella, exchanging a few quiet words with her. At her feet, he was interested to see, Lindsay had her sewing bag along with a large wicker basket overflowing with what appeared to be Lucy's entire collection of stuffed toys.

It was Lucy who spotted him and she scrambled up to run and greet him.

"Uncle Don! Where's Jennifer? Are you still going to play with me today and go exploring?"

"Sure thing," he answered, picking her up to hug her before he set her back on the floor by her miniature version of her mother's basket, and sat down himself.

"So where is the mysterious Jennifer, huh, Flack?" Danny raised questioning eyebrows at his friend and Don screwed his face up at him. The seemingly innocent question was anything but.

"I knew it wouldn't be long before curiosity got the better of you, Messer."

Danny grinned, unrepentant. "My wife wanted to know more, so I had to oblige her by asking you..." he was cut short by a thump from Lindsay to his arm; yelping in protest.

"She's upstairs, taking a bath and changing into some fresh clothes. I gave her the use of the nursery," Don answered as nonchalantly as possible.

Danny gave his friend another facetious grin. "I'm looking forward to meeting her," he remarked.

"You'll be able to when she comes down. And that will be when she's ready." Don directed an arched eyebrow at Danny. "Then you can satisfy any curiosity you have, Messer."

As he said that, Stella gave him a considering look. "You might want to go up and meet her when she's ready, save her having to walk into a room full of strangers all by herself?"

The thought hadn't crossed his mind and he frowned. "She didn't strike me as the kind of woman who'd be fazed by that kind of situation, Stell. Besides, I ain't going to go knocking on the door, demanding to know when she's ready..."

"Which wasn't what I had in mind," Stella said with a grin, shifting her position a little, her hand automatically stroking her stomach as she suggested that he listen out for Jennifer and go meet her coming down the stairs.

"It's called being a gentleman, Flack," Danny added his opinion and Don retaliated with an equal taunt about his friend's capacity to be a gentleman, leading to another insult from Danny.

They were cut short by Lindsay. "There are times when I wonder just who is the child in this family. I never have this sort of trouble from Lucy," she told her husband who grinned without remorse, although he left Don alone for the time being.

Once things had settled down Don found himself crouched by Lucy, admiring her tea set.

"Any plans been made for the day other than Mac and Danny headed into town?" he asked everyone while Lucy took the entire tea set out of the basket to show it off to him. "I'm happy to fall in with you guys' wishes."

"Other than the trip into town, nothing's set in stone," Mac answered him, ambling over from the window to perch on the arm of the couch by his wife.

"What about you ladies? Have you decided to accompany your husbands?" Don questioned Lindsay and Stella, half hoping they might have done, but it was Lucy who answered him eagerly.

"Me and Mommy are going to have a tea party with the babies and _maybe_ Aunt Stella and her baby." She counted her cups and saucers, frowning for a moment before her face brightened. "You and Jennifer can come, too, 'cause I got enough cups and saucers for you."

"Have you got enough food for your Uncle Don though, honey?" Danny asked, smirking at Don who restrained himself from any further comment, ignoring Danny and smiling at the little girl instead.

"Sure, Luce. That'd be real nice. Maybe when I've shown Jennifer the house and the garden, then we can come and have tea with you."

"But I got plenty of food for you, Uncle Don..."

A disappointed look appeared in her eyes as she told him that, which Don tried not to notice, torn between obliging the little girl and the lure of Jennifer's company. Instead, he attempted to distract Lucy by asking if she had any cakes, cookies or doughnuts he could have for a snack. Delighted to have a willing participant in her tea party, she delved into her basket and produced a rather battered looking handful of wooden, painted slices of 'cake', in which Don recognised Danny's handiwork. The tomato-red paint across the middle to represent jelly and the garish yellow icing was very much his style.

While the adults talked amongst themselves and Lucy served him generously with cake and invisible tea, Don found his thoughts straying towards their unexpected guest. The little girl's chatter fading out, he recalled his earlier conversation with Jennifer, remembering her discomposure in the nursery, how she had seemed to know the name of the rocking horse and wondering at it, and a small hand soon tugged at the leg of his pants.

"Uncle Don!"

"Huh?" He turned to Lucy who sat with her legs crossed and her fists on her hips.

"You're not listening to me," she complained. "Do you want more cake with your tea?"

"I'm sorry, Luce, yes, another slice would be swell." He accepted another slice of wooden cake; this one with a fiercely pink cherry painted on it and mimed his enjoyment. All of this was much to the youngest Messer's satisfaction. Don sighed, wondering whether it was too soon to go upstairs and see if Jennifer was ready yet. As he glanced towards the door, he caught the knowing smiles both Stella and Lindsay possessed as they glanced at each other and at him. His best strategy would be dignified ignorance he decided and asked his young hostess for a refill of tea while the two ladies continued their low-voiced discussion. He caught only a few murmured words of it, gathering it was about Stella's pregnancy, Danny and Lucy. Danny himself sat by Mac, both of them consulting a car manual and discussing engines. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, however, Don turned back to the tea party.

Another two cups of tea later and Stella raised her voice. "Don?"

Expecting some kind of teasing comment, he raised his eyebrows at her and mimicked an innocent tone of voice. "Stell?"

She simply smiled. "How about you go check and see if Jennifer's on her way down. She's probably about ready by now." Throwing a half-challenging look at her husband, she continued, "Despite what you guys are going to say, it does _not_ take a lady as long to get ready as you think it does."

Mac's demurral, in the form of a cleared throat, amused Don considerably; even more so when Stella glared at him. Nonetheless, he unfolded his legs and stood up; cool and ready to sally forth on the outside, riddled with nerves on the inside.

As it turned out, there was no need for him to go any further than the foot of the stairs. Stopped at the sight of him, halfway down, stood Jennifer. Dressed in a simple red cotton dress, she smiled a little shyly at him as she descended to meet him. Only just finding his voice, Don faltered a question, "Uh... was everything to your satisfaction?"

"Wonderful, thank you," she said, facing him with the tips of her shoes almost touching his. "I feel a whole lot better." A delicate pink stained her cheeks, the sunlight through the window dazzling off the silver pendant round her neck and striking beams of gold in her hair. It felt simply the right thing to do to offer his arm; an offer she accepted, and together they walked into the living room.

Mac and Danny, the latter with less speed, stood up at their entrance and Don introduced Jennifer formally to both Messers, ignoring the grin Danny sent his way when she wasn't looking.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Jennifer said as Lindsay offered her a seat. "Thank you so much for making me welcome, especially as I'm intruding on your vacation."

"It's our pleasure, you're not intruding at all," Stella said and the others nodded in agreement, though it was Don who Jennifer smiled in acknowledgement at.

As he sat down next to her on the couch opposite Stella and Lindsay, he admired the ease with which Jennifer carried the ensuing conversation; chatting with ease and grace to Danny and Lindsay as she told them her story, in between answering Lucy who piped up with questions every so often. He noticed though that she did not provide them with the same amount of details she had given the Taylors and him, keeping her description of her arrival at the house brief. But, he decided, that was no concern of his. For the moment, he was simply content to sit back and observe Jennifer. He became conscious that there was much to observe, much to admire. The tendrils of her hair that curled around the base of her neck; the way she used her hands to demonstrate a point, how the delicate fingers on her left hand rose unconsciously to touch the pendant dangling round her neck. And he observed, too, the shine in her eyes when she met his gaze; how her lashes dropped, for a filament of a second, before lifting and lighting his own eyes...

"...We'll head into town, make sure we're back in time for lunch." He heard Danny's announcement with a slight start and brought himself back to the situation in hand, reminding himself again that he was the host. His friends were capable of, and entirely happy to look after themselves, but he still felt responsible for them.

"Are there any supplies we need, any groceries we can pick up?" Mac addressed him, and it flummoxed him for a second. The shelves of the pantry seemed to be laden; restocking hadn't yet crossed his mind. Rubbing his hand down the back of his head, he tried to recall whether there was anything looking in short supply and decided there probably wasn't. "Nah, we're fine for a couple more days."

The older man nodded, suggesting, however, that it wouldn't hurt to buy a loaf as bread wouldn't stay fresh for long in the heat, and Don was happy to accede to his wisdom. Lindsay instructed her husband to pick up a quart of milk, to make sure Lucy had enough for her oatmeal and Lucy herself tugged at her father's free hand, wheedling for candy.

"I didn't eat any candy for _two whole days_," she said, turning a big-eyed gaze up to him.

"I'm sorry, honey. Your mom thinks you had too much sugar yesterday," he said after catching Lindsay's eye. Don felt a prick of guilt at that, remembering the cookies he'd provided. Danny's refusal was met with further pleas from Lucy, followed by a pouting mouth and dragging footsteps when he refused her more firmly. Thwarted, she plumped down on the floor next to her basket, cross-legged, arms folded across her chest, eyebrows crunched together in a scowl. It took a lot of restraint for Don to hold back a smirk at the spectacle.

Danny transmitted a questioning look to his wife, but she shook her head, remaining resolute; furthermore, she reminded Lucy that any misbehaviour would mean missing her bedtime story, a reminder which deepened the scowl on her daughter's face.

After Mac and Danny departed – Mac with a suggestion to Stella to stay out of the heat; a suggestion she responded to with a sweet smile and the reminder that she did have _some_ common sense – Don turned his attention to Lucy. Seeing her still sulking, he felt thankful that as much as he loved his surrogate niece, he did not have responsibility for her as her parents did. Maybe there were benefits to a bachelor's life, he mused, and then caught Jennifer's gaze as she looked up, amused, from watching Lucy's attempts to attract her mother's attention to the fact she was sulking.

Any further thoughts, Lindsay interrupted. "Well now." She patted her hands on her knees and spoke brightly, ignoring her daughter's glowering face as she stood and picked up her sewing bag and the basket of stuffed animals. "How about you and me take the babies outdoors for their picnic, honey? It's such a beautiful day; we don't want to miss the sunshine."

A certain tone in her voice, Don noted wryly, seemed to resonate with Lucy

"It's a tea party, _not_ a picnic, Mommy," she muttered as nevertheless, she got to her feet and repacked her own basket, even carrying it to the door herself.

"You've got an awfully heavy load there." Jennifer had jumped up and intercepted mother and daughter, standing now holding a helping hand out. "Can I carry something outside for you?"

Surprised, Lindsay hesitated for a moment, before she passed her the sewing bag, leaving Don to take the handle of Lucy's basket and share the load with her. Seeing as Stella remained where she was on the couch, Don questioned her.

"You okay here on your own, Stell?" he asked. "Kind of feel like we're abandoning you." It wasn't simply lack of company for her that concerned him; with Mac out, he felt a certain responsibility for Stella's well-being.

She grinned and waved her book at him. "Not in the least, I'm just fine here. I've got a Raymond Chandler that Mac bought to keep me company. You go on ahead and I'll join you later. Make sure you save some of that wonderful looking cake and some tea for me, Lucy-Lou."

Lucy's smile reappeared in an instant. "I will! You and the baby can have an extra big piece."

"Thank you, sweetie." Stella blew the little girl a kiss and Lucy skipped out, pulling Don along with her. With a grin and a salute to Stella, he followed and let Lucy tug him over to the neatly cut lawn where Lindsay and Jennifer were arranging a blanket and large parasol on the ground.

"I like it," Don commented as he helped Lucy set her basket down and shaded his eyes to look up at the copper tinged blue sky. "Exactly what you need."

"Neat, isn't it?" Jennifer smiled. "Lindsay spotted the parasol in the porch on the way out."

As Jennifer seemed content to do so, Don and she helped to set up the tea party, arranging the babies as best they could, though some were clearly not designed for sitting, which led to many huffs of frustration from their surrogate mother. It did not take long, however, before all was to Lucy's liking with china cups and saucers for the privileged members of the party and large leaves, plucked from the shrubbery, for the less favoured guests.

At that point, Don decided they could leave to go and explore the house and gardens, without causing upset to Lucy.

"Are you two going to stay out here?" he asked as he stood and held out his hand for Jennifer to help her to her feet. She rose with elegance, dusting down her skirts and accepting his hand.

"We'll stay out for a while, until it gets too warm," Lindsay said, fanning her face with her hand as she wiggled a little further under the parasol. "Make sure you two don't get too hot out, keep to the shade and drink plenty."

Don chuckled at her 'clucking', teasing her again with her nickname of 'Mama Lindsay' before he promised Lucy it wouldn't be long before they returned to play with her. Lucy seemed happy with that and free of guilt, he departed with Jennifer, leaving Lucy telling off an unfortunate bear for falling over yet again and landing face first onto his leaf plate.

Walking side by side, Jennifer and he strolled back towards the house and as they reached the steps up to the side door, she slipped her arm through his, sunshine in her face.

Smiling down at her, he elevated an eyebrow. "Ready for the grand tour, Ma'am?"

Her eyes sparkled with humour. "Lead the way, Sir."

He needed no further encouragement.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading, reviews are very welcome! Lily x<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I'm disappointed to report that the characters are still not mine  
><strong>

**Notes: Apologies for the delay; it's been a busy few weeks. Thanks to _Crowded Angels_ for the reminders to post and many thanks also to _Ballettmaus_ and _Suallenparker_ for their help and suggestions with the chapter :)  
><strong>

Chapter 9

Having asked Stella for permission to show Jennifer her and Mac's room (which Stella had given readily), Don and Jennifer began their tour. The more time he spent in her company, the more Don became aware of the happiness he felt being with her, and as they ambled round the house, conversation swung back and forth easily between them.

"So seeing as you don't knit or sew," Don asked as they made their way along the hall, "What do you like doing, when you're not hiking in the woods of upstate New York?" He grinned cheekily at her and she smiled back.

"I read, a lot," she said. "I guess you could say I'm crazy about books. I always keep at least three with me."

Don raised his eyebrows, wondering if he should admit to reading as few books as possible, and instead mumbled something about never having time to read. Jennifer gave him a keen look. "It's not a crime not to like books, Don."

He smiled down at her. "I prefer doing other things. Guess it's never been easy for me to sit still long enough to finish a book."

For a couple of minutes they walked in a comfortable silence before Jennifer spoke again.

"What about music? Do you have any preferences?"

With his answer – that he liked big band music – they found something they did have in common and the ensuing discussion was animated, with Don realising he liked more and more about Jennifer.

Enjoying his role as host and tour guide, he breezed through the rooms on the first floor of the house, opening doors, pointing out the things that had interested him, enjoyed discovering what interested his companion. Though none of the rooms they looked in elicited the same reaction the nursery had, some rooms, such as the room that had been the master bedroom and a room that he'd been told had been a schoolroom, she lingered in a little longer than others, which made him wonder, briefly, what the reasons for that were; although he said nothing to her.

Mac and Stella's room was the last they peeped into upstairs and as they did so, Jennifer asked him, "How long have you known Mac and Stella?"

The question made him pause and scrunch his face up as he calculated. "Guess it must be... close on fifteen years." He was surprised to realise that it had been that long. "Yeah, fifteen years, 'cause I was still in High School when I first met Mac. He's an old friend of Pop's from the police department. Stella used to work for Pop, which was how she and Mac met. They've been married for seven years," he continued seeing the interest in Jennifer's face, "but they've known each other a heck of a lot longer than that 'cause it took 'em a while to admit they were more than just good friends."

He chuckled, recalling the happiness amongst their acquaintances when they had announced their engagement, going on to tell Jennifer how Mac had proposed on Independence Day after taking Stella up to the top of the Empire State building to watch the fireworks, and how he and his father had been in on what was going to happen, with Mac asking his father's permission for Stella's hand in marriage. "Stell's an orphan and Pop's been the closest thing to a father she's ever had," he explained, realising his trust in Jennifer came easily, at the same moment as he saw the empathy in her expression when he told her about Stella. "He was over the moon when Mac asked him."

"How romantic," Jennifer sighed, dazzles of light in her eyes as she looked up at him. You must have been so excited and your parents, too."

He grinned. "You should have seen the size of the hat Mom wore to the wedding and when Pop walked the bride down the aisle, well, let's just say she got through more handkerchiefs than I would in a year. Even Mac was blinking away a few tears when he saw Stell." That he had also had to clear his throat and blow his nose gustily he decided not to mention, though the quirk of Jennifer's lips suggested she guessed.

All she said, however, was, "It's obvious they're crazy about each other."

"It was obvious to all their friends long before they realised it themselves." Don smirked. "But, they got there in the end, which is all that matters. And now with the baby on its way, I don't think there are many people more content with life than they are."

His companion smiled, her hand running along the banister as they descended the stairs. "So you'll be Uncle Don to the baby, same as you are with Lucy?"

"Sure will," he said. "I'll be the one officially allowed to spoil the kid."

"I can picture that." Jennifer grinned. "Buying candy, outings to the zoo, pocket money..."

"You got it," he said with a laugh. "I've had plenty of practice being Lucy's favourite Uncle."

"You're good with her," Jennifer said, her tone sincere. "She's an adorable little girl."

"She sure is," Don agreed, pleased at the praise of his surrogate niece. "I guess it'd be easy for her to be spoiled, seeing as she's an only, so far, but Messer and Lindsay make sure that doesn't happen. Same as I know Mac and Stell will do. They've got their feet firmly on the ground and pretty solid ideas on how to bring a kid up. The baby isn't going to be spoiled even though it means more than anything else in the world to them."

"Oh?" Jennifer raised her eyebrows and Don paused, half-way down the stairs, his fingernail scratching at a flaw in the banister, wondering suddenly if he'd said too much. But her inherent discretion was obvious, so with an instinct that he could trust her about this, too, he explained as they trod down one stair at a time. "They'd been told it was very unlikely, if not impossible, they'd be able to have children after they'd had a few – a few disappointments..." He glanced at Jennifer, seeing compassion and understanding in her eyes as she nodded silently. "After a couple of years, I think they'd almost resigned themselves to being childless, especially after they lost a baby a few months along," he said, thinking of the agonies that resignation had caused his friends as he spoke the brief sentence. "Even when they found out that Stell was pregnant again this time, they didn't get their hopes up. But, though she was pretty sick at first, they've got this far without any major problems. Although I don't think either of them are going to believe it's real until they're holding the baby. Even at this point, they still think it's a miracle that might not happen to them..."

He stopped then, realising that despite his instinctive trust, he had very likely crossed boundaries of confidence and propriety in telling someone he had only just met about his friends' grief. As he stood tongue-tied, Jennifer gave him a shrewd look.

"I won't say anything about it to them," she said and he gave her a brief smile.

"Thanks...I..."

"Probably feel like you told me too much," she finished and he gave an awkward grimace.

"They've never told me not to tell anyone, it's just..." He shrugged helplessly.

She gave him just a touch of his arm as she spoke in a soft voice, "They've obviously had a tough time. And it's got to have been tough for their friends, too, seeing them go through all that. Sometimes you need to talk about that."

Don exhaled, nodding as he did so, his guilt lessening. "Yeah... Yeah, I guess so." Almost at the bottom of the stairs, he paused again, turning to face Jennifer who stood with one foot on the same step as he was on, her other foot on the one above, wanting to add one last thing that he felt was important for her to know. "If anyone deserves a miracle like this, they do. They've never complained or made anyone else feel bad about it; they've just got on with living."

"I understand," she said, her hand resting on his, warm and delicate.

He was finding it impossible to tear his gaze from hers, until she broke eye contact, dropping her eyes downwards before raising them again and suggesting they continue.

Don was happy to agree and they continued along the hallway, their footsteps slow, their conversation deliberately light and superficial.

She turned to him, smiling and almost without conscious thought, her fingers glided over his. A thrill made his heart leap and he found himself entranced by her. They stopped and he seemed to be falling into her eyes, his breath taken from him, time stalled and irrelevant. Only vaguely aware of himself now, he leaned closer to her, the softness of her breath, sweet on his lips...

"Uncle Don? Miss Jennifer?"

Don blinked; the feeling of ethereality disappeared and he felt himself very solid and earth-bound. Jennifer dropped his hand, equally startled as they both turned towards the figure racing towards them.

"I found you!" Lucy's face was a wreath of smiles as she ran up to them, her arms laden with stuffed animals.

"You sure did, Luce," Don answered as casually as he could, swallowing his frustration and hoping his cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt. Wiping moist hands on his pants, he flicked a glance at Jennifer, whose cheeks were tinted pink, and looked questioningly at Lucy.

"Is your tea party finished?"

"Not yet. Mommy's looking after the other babies," the little girl explained. "She said I could come see if Aunt Stella was ready yet and look for you and Miss Jennifer." She turned and gave the newly-christened 'Miss' Jennifer a beaming smile.

Jennifer's face turned puckish as she crouched down so she was level with her. "Well now, Lucy, it's very polite of you to call me 'Miss', but it's okay to just call me Jennifer, if you'd like to." As she spoke, she plucked the ribbon from one of Lucy's pigtails that had come loose and was in imminent danger of falling out. Don watched their interaction, a small smile on his face.

Lucy, very serious, stood rubbing one foot against the back of her leg while she shook her head. "Mommy said I had to be polite and call you 'Miss'," she told them and Don was able to almost hear the conversation between Lindsay and her daughter. When Lindsay spoke in a certain tone of voice, there was no other choice but to obey. Even he knew that and Danny certainly did, he thought with a sudden smirk.

Equally serious, Jennifer replied, "That's quite okay. Your Mommy is very polite, too." When she finished speaking, her deft fingers had unknotted Lucy's ribbon and she held it up, asking, "Would you like me to re-tie this for you?"

With a vigorous nod that dislodged the other ribbon, Lucy gave her permission. Jennifer re-tied them both and then glanced up at Don.

"How about we all go back outside? Your Uncle Don and I are going to have a look round the gardens then we could go explore with you."

"Goody!" The little girl jigged on the spot in delight and Don had to grin. Helping her to pick up the fallen stuffed animals, he guided her along, he and Jennifer at either side, while she skipped in between them.

"Hey, what about your Aunt Stella?" he asked, remembering Lucy's other mission. "Is she going to join the tea party?"

A sigh gusted out of Lucy and she shook her head. "She's sleeping. I think her baby made her tired."

"You're likely right, Luce," he said, tugging one of her pigtails gently. "Never mind, you've got all your babies at the tea party. They're not making _you_ tired are they?" He grinned and Lucy shook her head with vehemence.

"They sure _aren't_. I'm not tired at all."

Don elevated an eyebrow. "Sure about that? Sure you're not too tired to go exploring later?" Though he knew it was highly unlikely, he'd been half-hoping she would say she might be.

As he expected, however, Lucy almost shook her ribbons free again with the force of her denial. "I'm _not_ too tired, Uncle Don! Me and you and Miss Jennifer have got lots of exploring to do, like those kitties did in the story." Large eyes turned up towards him and Don gave an inner sigh, regretting the book that had been chosen last night. Time exploring with Lucy was time not spent solely in the company of Jennifer, and the fact that their time together was limited was a weight inside him. But he had made a promise, and he would not break it.

"Okay, as long as it's still fine with your Mom, we'll explore in a real short time."

It mollified Lucy and she skipped on ahead into the living room, stopping dead on the threshold before she spun round, her finger on her lips.

"You got to be _ever_ so quiet now," she instructed in a whisper loud enough to be heard in the garden, "'cause you'll wake Aunt Stella and her baby if you're _too noisy_."

Putting his head round the living room door showed him that despite Lucy's not-so-dulcet tones, Stella was indeed still asleep; curled on her side on the couch, her book fallen from her hand, her hair in riotous curls across the cushions. It struck Don then that taking another route out to the garden might be wise; if Stella was sleeping, he didn't want to risk waking her, particularly with Lucy in tow, so he suggested that they make their way out through the front door and round to the gardens that way...

"Don't talk so loud, Uncle Don!" Lucy hissed and at that, Stella did stir, mumbling something unintelligible before she burrowed her face deeper into the cushions and settled again.

"Sorry," Don mouthed and bit the inside of his cheek to stop laughter erupting as Lucy tutted and shook her head with a glare before she spun on her heel and made her way down the hall on tip toe. Don and Jennifer followed, struggling to stifle their laughter at the sight.

"You're very good at being quiet, Lucy," Jennifer praised her once they reached the garden and Lucy almost preened herself.

"Thank you, Miss Jennifer, and so are you." Very pointedly, Don noted with a smirk, she did not mention his name. Jennifer in turn thanked Lucy, who, now very happy, ran off towards her mother and the tea party. More slowly, Jennifer and Don wandered over, smiles cast at each other as they went.

"Is Stella okay?" Lindsay asked as they reached her, Lucy having already plopped down on the grass in front of her and busied herself rearranging the tea party guests.

"Sound asleep." Don smiled and then pointed at the material that Lindsay held in her lap. "What are you making there, Linds? You've been kind of secretive about it."

Looking self-conscious, Lindsay held up a tiny white smock, blooming with richly embroidered flowers which she told them was for Stella's baby.

"It's beautiful," Jennifer knelt down beside Lindsay and touched the smock, looking in delighted wonder at it. "Really. You obviously have a great talent for embroidery."

"Thank you." Lindsay blushed, pleased and embarrassed as she laid the smock over her knees and smoothed it out. "I know Stella doesn't have much interest in sewing herself, so I thought it was something I could do for her. I'm almost finished with it."

"She'll adore it, trust me," Don assured her and her blush deepened.

"I hope so. I wanted to do something nice; she and Mac have been so kind to us, I haven't known how to thank them."

"You know they don't expect any thanks," Don said gently, knowing that the help – both financial and practical – the Taylors had given to their younger friends after Danny's injury had been a pleasure to them.

"I know, but even so..." Lindsay murmured, her eyes cast downwards. She sighed, touching the little garment, before looking up at them. "Stella has so many things people have bought for her and this is only one thing."

Don raised his eyebrows at the insecurity he saw in Lindsay's face. "One very special thing," he said. "Maybe she has had plenty of things bought for her, but that's exactly it, they're bought. I'm pretty sure no one's made anything like this for her. She'll treasure it."

"It really is exquisite," Jennifer added, smiling at Lindsay.

"Thank you both," Lindsay answered softly, her brown eyes full of light. Giving a quick, self-deprecating laugh, she picked the smock up and shook it out. "Listen to me, fussing about such a silly thing."

"It's fine, Linds, you're not fussing." Don said, glad to have spoken about something which had troubled his friend. "Do you want us to stick around for a bit?"

Lindsay shook her head. "No, there's no need, you two go off and do your own exploring, Lucy and I are fine here," she said with a bright smile, which had more than a hint of knowing in it.

His conscience salved, Don nodded, ignoring the meaningful tone on her voice. "Okay, we'll leave you and Luce to carry on with your tea party. Holler if you need us though."

It spurred a genuine laugh from Lindsay and Don grinned and stood up, glancing at Jennifer who had moved over to help Lucy with the unruly tea party guests, as he did so. "We'll come find you in a little while, Luce, okay?"

In answer, she bounced up and down, a huge grin on her face.

Lindsay threw him a doubtful look, but he smiled with a quick nod, murmuring, "It's okay, I promised the kid."

It satisfied her and he and Jennifer set off.

At first they wandered as the fancy took them; an ambling, rambling walk along any path their feet took them. Now and again, they strayed down a tunnel of over-arching branches, thin-limbed trees that had bent under the weight of foliage and age, gnarled and quavering above them. All around the leaves were every hue of green, verdant, lush and cool. Refreshing and shady compared to the increasing heat.

Amongst the tangling, twining branches, their fingers had naturally interlaced. It had taken only a shared glance and a smile. Nothing more. As they wandered down a petal-strewn path, Jennifer exclaimed in pleasure at the medley of blossoms and the scent that rose from them, gathering a few into a posy, and Don became aware of the increasing beat of happiness in his heart. Perhaps something even more than happiness. Here, now, in the garden on this summer day, with a woman he had met only hours before, he felt complete, and allowed himself to accept the feeling. Still, he wondered how Jennifer might feel. And he caught sight of the memory of their almost-kiss, still unresolved, in her eyes.

As she snapped a stem of honeysuckle and brought it to her nose, he watched. She closed her eyes, inhaled the gingery scent from the pink and yellow tendrils before her eyes fluttered open and she turned and smiled at him.

"This is heavenly," she sighed, in raptures as she gazed round with dreaming eyes, adding the stem of honeysuckle to the posy in her hand.

"Agreed." He smiled at her description, finding it expressed his own unspoken feelings.

Then she turned and looked at him with the slightest of frowns creasing her forehead.

"You're missing something," she said, her gaze focused on his chest.

Puzzled, Don glanced down at himself, pushing his chin into his neck and making his eyes feel strange as he tried to see if he had a button gone astray. Unable to see anything, he raised his eyes to her with an enquiring look.

"A buttonhole," she answered. "I think a flower in a buttonhole looks really charming."

Glancing round, he caught sight of a small clump of bachelor's button flowers. With a grin to himself, he broke one of the flower heads from the plant and passed it to her. "Here, you'd better arrange it for me." At the expression on her face though, he paused; her eyes were narrowed and her mouth had tilted up at the corners.

"I don't think that suits you," she said, letting the flower fall amongst its fellows. "I'll find you something better..."

A bush of claret coloured roses, half hidden amongst the undergrowth caught her eye and with expert fingers, she twisted off an opening bud and slipped it into his buttonhole. "There, that one's exactly your colour," she said in satisfaction, her fingers resting on his shirt.

"Thank you." He caught hold of her fingers, trapping them against his chest and her lips parted as he raised their joined hands to his mouth, a thrill of heat searing him as he saw the tint of rose-red in her cheeks.

Oblivious now to anything else, disturbed by no one, they drew closer. His hand encircling her waist, his eyelids falling closed, his lips touched her soft as petals mouth. Just touching, their lips moved across each others, breathing across skin, until it became a kiss. A deeper kiss, mouths meeting, a shiver trembling through him as her hands passed across his thin shirt, rose to caress the back of his neck as he clasped her waist, one hand sliding down to her hip.

There was no rush, no urgency, they had all the time they needed to savour, enjoy, delight in the kiss.

And when it came to its natural end, they drew apart only slowly, eyes opening to look at each other and smile, her lashes skimming against his cheek.

"You kiss by the book," she breathed as they stood only inches apart while her fingers pressed against his chest, In a rush, Don felt his breath return to his lungs caught between the euphoria of the kiss, a wildfire of joy and a sudden fear that he had scared her, scared himself even.

"I'll take that as a compliment..." he murmured, hoping it was.

She smiled and a flush spilled over her face. "You should. It's not everyone I quote Shakespeare to."

"Shakespeare?" He raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed... and flattered." Taking a step back, he studied her, watching her bite her lower lip as her hand trailed away from him and a smile touched the corners of her eyes.

"Romeo and Juliet. One of my favourite plays."

With a crook of his eyebrows, Don stared down at her, wondering then if it would bother her that the one time he had ever been in a theatre was to see a music hall act during his military career. All he said though was, "I've only a vague memory of the story, not being a kid who paid too much attention during literature classes, but didn't those guys have an _un_happy ending?"

"Mmm," she said, nodding, her hand finding his as she matched her fingers against his. "They did, but they had a whole lot of things to contend with – families that hated each other, jealous rivals, the fact they were star-crossed teenagers..."

A chuckle escaped him at that. "It's been more than ten years since I was a teenager."

She rose on her tiptoes to dab another kiss to his lips. "I'd never have thought it to look at you," she said, smiling.

"Flatterer," he mumbled, losing all powers of speech and thought as her lips met his again and her fingers grazed across his scalp. When a bee landed on his forehead, startling him, making him jump, he could have cursed, but Jennifer's giggle, tickling his lips soothed him.

"How about we start making our way back to Lucy? If she's anything like the little girl I was, she's going to have a very limited amount of patience."

Don sighed as he caught hold of her fingers while she cocked her head on one side. "You promised," she reminded him in a soft voice and he dipped his head, a prickle of heat passing over him at the reminder.

"I know," he murmured. "It's just... you're only here for a little while longer..." He stopped and looked at her.

In a silence mingled with drowsy insects and the faint hum of grasshoppers in the sweltering air she stared back at him, her fingers curling round his hand, her gaze transparent.

"We'll be seeing each other again," she said, only for a quiver of uncertainty to appear on her lips. "Won't we?"

"I'd like to, very much." The words almost tumbled over themselves in his rush to get them out.

"Good." Her smile bloomed. "So would I." And before he could say another word, she turned and drew him further along the path, untangling a passage through honeysuckle muddles and briar rose thickets.

Reassured by her words and light-hearted again, Don tugged at her hand and asked, "You were an impatient kid, huh?"

She spun round and flashed him a grin. "I was. Couldn't bear to wait for anything. As soon as I was told something was going to happen, I wanted it happening right there and then." Imagining the self-possessed young woman as an impetuous child gave Don plenty of amusement as, holding her bunch of flowers that she'd passed to him, he watched her undo a knot of creepers with the same ease and deftness she had undone Lucy's hair ribbons. "Sounds like you were a happy kid, too."

Smiling, she nodded. "Very happy. My parents were the kindest people; there was nothing they wouldn't do. I don't mean just material things," she added, "although I certainly don't remember ever lacking anything, but they spent time with me." Her eyes soft, she told him about the clothes her mother had made for her dolls and how her father had taught her carpentry. After breaking off to laugh, she continued. "That was another thing my patience got tested with, waiting for glue and paint to dry."

Don laughed with her, seeing again the little girl she had been.

"I remember particularly," she continued, her voice becoming musing, "birthdays and Christmases being a torment in the lead-up to them. I used to start a countdown at least two months before the big event." A rueful look appeared in her eyes. "I've gotten over that now, certainly for birthdays. They're not quite so much fun as you grow up."

"Agreed," he said fervently. "Now I've passed the milestone of thirty, I'm thinking I might have to start trying to be an adult."

As he'd hoped, she laughed; and he realised it was a sound he could grow to love, was already falling in love with.

"My birthday was actually a couple of days ago," she admitted before a pixie-like grin formed on her face. "I celebrated being a year away from thirty in the great outdoors, with a can of beans for dinner cooked over a log fire."

"Sounds a perfect birthday to me." He grinned in turn. "Except I'd have had a whole lot more than a can of beans to eat. Takes more than that to fill me up."

"Oh?" She arched her eyebrows. "Well, maybe one day I could cook you some dinner over a log fire, beans with all the trimmings. Though I say it myself, I'm a pretty good cook."

His smile stretched across his face. "Just let me know the time and the place."

"I will." She smiled and spun round again, plunging on along the path, and Don followed with a pleasant feeling of anticipation tingling through his veins.

"Do you know what?" Jennifer stopped and swung round to face him. "This garden should have a swing."

His eyebrows flickered in amusement. "Funny you should say that..." Beckoning her to follow him down a little side path, he stopped on the edge of a patch of cleared grass and gestured with a sweep of his arm. In the middle of which grew a wide-girthed oak tree, a swing with a white-painted seat and two thick ropes either side hanging from its thickest bough. "Your wish is my command," he announced and drew her forward. She let him, her steps almost trance-like as she stared with a child's wonder in her eyes. When they reached the swing, she touched the greenish stained rope and the crackled paint on the seat.

"How did you know this was here?" Her eyes were large and light-filled.

"Found it the day I arrived." He shrugged, appearing casual, but thrilled inside at her delight. "I did some exploring on my own. Go ahead, try it," he urged. "I've tested it and if it can take the weight of a 6'3 grown man, it's perfectly safe for you." His testing of the swing, after he had tugged at the old ropes several times, had been undertaken with some self-consciousness, until the exhilaration of swinging had overtaken him and he had forgotten his years. A smile crinkled the corners of Jennifer's eyes and, though tentative at first, she lowered herself onto the seat, placing her flowers in her lap. Moving backwards and forwards, her eyes soon closed and she sighed, tipping her face towards the sky. "There can't be many things more fun than swinging on a summer's day," she said dreamily.

Don decided that there were not many things more enjoyable than watching a woman as beautiful as Jennifer on a summer's day. His only comment though was to agree with her as he gazed at the sunlight that splashed through the tree branches and onto her hair, gleaming on her skin and glistening on the pendant round her neck. An impulse took him then and stepping over to a cloud of honeysuckle, he snapped off a spray of the fragrant blossoms. Seeing his movement, Jennifer stopped the swing by the simple method of digging her feet firmly into the ground, and making a little bow, Don presented it to her.

"In return for my rose," he offered as she accepted with a delighted smile.

"Thank you, it's beautiful." It spun in her fingers as she drew a breath of its perfume before tucking it artfully into her hair. Don stood back to admire the effect, his arms folded, and nodded.

"It suits you," he said, feeling inadequate, but still, those few words caused a blush to rise to her face.

Their gazes held and the moment swelled and ripened into perfection. He leaned forward, his hand wrapping round hers on the rope of the swing, lips tasting hers again as his fingertips caressed the side of her face. Stillness holding them out of time, Don's eyes closed...

And snapped open again.

He pulled back, giving a hurried apology as a feeling like a crop of needles erupting over his scalp jolted him.

"I heard something..."

"Me too," Jennifer spoke in a low voice; alert as he was, her gaze in the same direction as his through the undergrowth. There was no mistaking the sound now; through the shrubs someone came crashing and running, tearing towards them. A sound that grew first louder and fainter. Someone with no certain sense of direction. Someone shouting. Someone calling a little girl's name.

"Lindsay..." Don plunged forwards, Jennifer at his heels. "Lindsay!" Shouting now he shoved his way through the spiteful, tearing bushes, turning frantically this way and that as he heard again and again Lucy's name shouted, in a voice that was becoming ragged with desperation. Glimpsing a flash of colour to his right, he jerked round and dived towards it, grabbing hold a moment later of a breathless Lindsay.

Unable to speak, her breath torn into pants, she was pale and wild-eyed.

"Lindsay, what's happened? What's wrong? Where's Lucy?" he demanded, fear causing him to shake her shoulders.

Heaving in a lungful of air, Lindsay clutched at his forearms. "She's-she's missing," she gasped. "I've called and called and she's not answering, and I can't find her anywhere..."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you think :) Lily x<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Disappointingly, the characters are _still_ not mine  
><strong>

**Notes: Apologies (again) for the delay; this time preparations for the Royal Cornwall Show are to blame :P Thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for the help and suggestions with the chapter :)  
><strong>

Chapter 10

Standing in front of him, breathing rapidly, Lindsay teetered on the edge of control.

"What happened?" Don asked, keeping his voice calm and level, though the implications of Lindsay's words spun through his mind.

Lindsay shook her head. "I-I don't know exactly..." Shame crushed her features. "I fell- I fell asleep," she whispered, her eyes darting to him and Jennifer and away again. "After I finished my sewing, I felt so tired, and Lucy was playing so quietly and being so good... my eyes just closed. It was so hot..." She dashed at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"It's okay." Jennifer's hand stayed steady on Lindsay's shoulder as Lindsay bit her lip hard and screwed up her face to keep tears at bay. "We'll search for her. I guess she's gotten impatient and has started exploring without us, seeing as we've been a while," she said apologetically with a glance at Don who felt his cheeks heat.

Lindsay's trembling hands were clenched together as she spoke. "But she said she wanted to wait for you earlier and she knows she's not supposed to go out of my sight." With desperation starting to flare in her eyes, she continued, her voice becoming shriller with her insistence. "She _knows_ she mustn't go off on her own, she's such a little girl still. And I've called and called and she's not answering."

"What Jennifer said makes sense – the temptation to explore got the better of her," Don said, shoving his hands into his pockets, guilt beginning to nibble at him for keeping Lucy waiting: minutes to them had probably distended into hours for the little girl.

Lindsay remained unconvinced. Clutching her face in her hands, she spun round, looking in every direction through the shrubbery. "Something's happened to her," she muttered. "What if she's fallen, what if she's hurt... what if she's been taken same as the other little girl..."

"Nothing's going to have happened to her," Don stamped down on her anxiety before it became hysteria. "She won't have gotten hurt and she won't have been taken. Listen, here's what we're going to do." He placed his arms round Lindsay's shoulders, feeling her trembling. "We spread out and hunt for her round the garden. She's only a kid, she won't have gotten far."

"Maybe she didn't even realise she'd gone out of sight," Jennifer said. "Probably she's found a little space somewhere and she's hiding out waiting for us to find her."

"Sounds reasonable to me." Don fixed his gaze on Lindsay as he spoke. "You know how fond she is of hidey-holes in the weirdest of places."

Lindsay bit her lip, dabbing at her eyes with a limp handkerchief before she became determined and nodded. "You're probably right. I'll go check and see if she's taken any of the babies with her, if she has, then she might have gone to make a camp with them."

"Good plan," Don said, following Lindsay as she led the way out of the shrubbery, glancing back to make sure Jennifer was behind them.

Pushing through the tangled briar patch of undergrowth, they all called Lucy's name with vigour, Lindsay's voice loudest of all. No answer forthcame, but Don did his best to ignore the worry clouding his mind and trudged on until they were out on the open lawn again.

The abandoned tea party was the first thing his gaze landed on – a heap of stuffed animals in a various whimsical attitudes. Lindsay hurried over and began to check them while Jennifer followed her and Don scanned the immediate area.

"Only one's missing," Lindsay said, squinting up at Don as he strode over. "Her favourite, Betty the bear, Danny got it from Hawaii for her when he was stationed there..." Her eyes brimmed with tears but she swiped them away and Don squeezed her shoulder.

"What's Danny going to say when he finds out I lost – I lost our daughter?" she said, her voice quavering with tears that refused to be quashed. "When I couldn't even manage to stay awake and keep her safe..."

"Beating yourself up isn't going to help," Don said, keeping a firm grip on her shoulder and Lindsay heaved a breath in, managing to produce a wobbling reply.

"I know, I know it's just..."

"Maybe Lucy's gone to show Betty round the gardens," Jennifer suggested, getting to her feet. "I used to have a favourite bear who I insisted on carrying round with me wherever we went. That bear's seen more of the world than a lot of humans have." She smiled and a brief tight smile came in return from Lindsay before the sound of someone hurrying down the porch steps caught their attention. As fast as she could move, Stella came across the lawn towards them, a questioning look on her face.

"What's going on?" Her gaze moved between them as she reached them, a little out of breath and one hand under her stomach, the other massaging her back. "Where's Lucy? I heard you calling her."

"We think," Don answered with a glance at Lindsay who had turned her head away from Stella. "We think she's on a mission to become the next Livingstone, or Stanley, whoever the explorer guy was, in the jungles of upstate New York."

"I see." Stella's comprehension was immediate as she nodded and glanced at Lindsay. "Then I'll join the search party." She directed her statement to her friend, laying a hand on her arm as Lindsay turned a distressed face towards her.

"No, Stella, you shouldn't..."

A twinge of discomfort passed over Stella's face though she almost succeeded in covering it with a short laugh. "Okay, I may be a little limited, and I'd hate to see Mac's face if he caught me out here searching in this heat, but I can still do _something_..." She tailed off, glancing back at the house in thought, before she turned back to them. "How about I keep watch indoors and have a look around while I'm at it? Lucy might have decided she wanted to take a look round the house - there are plenty of nooks and crannies to appeal to an adventurous little girl."

Don looked at her in surprise, and then concern, taking note again of how her hands had moved to the small of her back and the grimace that she could not prevent. "Are you okay, Stell?" he asked.

Stella frowned at him. "I'm fine, Don. It's just the baby moving around. He or she's pretty restless this afternoon."

"Is your back hurting you?" Jennifer asked, studying Stella.

"It's aching a bit," Stella admitted, giving Don a half-defiant look. "But no more than it has been for the past couple of days."

It was Don's turn to frown, even more so as he saw Jennifer's considering expression. "Well, take it easy indoors then," he said. "I don't want to face the wrath of Mac for having gotten you all agitated." His tone held a forced lightness and it was no small relief to him that Stella took her leave of them after pulling a face at him. As soon as she was up the steps of the porch and indoors, he turned his mind back to the task in hand, but before he could speak, Jennifer did.

"I think the three of us should radiate outwards, separately, so we're covering as much ground as possible, as quickly as possible."

Serious as the situation was, Don had to grin. "You and I are on the same wavelength. That was exactly what I was going to suggest."

"But I just happened to get there first." She smiled. "Great minds, huh?"

"Definitely in your case." Don smirked. "But that might be flattering me too much."

Jennifer grinned. "Don't underestimate yourself. You..."

"If you two could stop flirting for a moment, maybe we could do what's important and search for my missing daughter!" White-faced, Lindsay spun round leaving Don wincing as he saw Jennifer's scarlet cheeks.

Without a word and only a brief look at him, she moved away and began her portion of the search. It broke a sigh from Don and he wiped his forearm across his forehead, realising the humidity had increased to almost unbearable levels. The sky directly above them was covered with a blue-grey haze, shot through with blinding leams of sunlight. As Don gazed for a moment, the far distant mountains quivered and shimmered. It presaged thunder or he was very much mistaken.

Spurred on, he plunged into the cool of the undergrowth glad to escape the ruinous brilliance of the sky. Even burrowed into the thickets of plants left to run rampant, Don mopped his face and sweated so that his shirt clung to his back. The rose tucked into his buttonhole was torn out by brambles, the same that clawed at his shirt and ripped the skin on his hands. Muttering curses, he fought back and called Lucy over and over. Receiving no answer each time. He heard, in sequence, purely by chance, his calls followed by Lindsay's and Jennifer's. A call, a pause; no answer. Again and again they called and the still, sultry air held their voices and returned no other.

The story that he had told his friends yesterday began to bother Don, some small echo of superstition reaching him in the humid, almost unreal atmosphere that he had brought down the disappearance of Lucy by relating the tale. Grabbing a loose piece of wood, however, he slashed at the undergrowth and pushed on, grim and determined, thinking no more of lost babes.

"Lucy," he yelled, his throat parching. "_Lucy!"_ He felt the pressure in his blood vessels and had to stop and cough, an unwelcome reminder of his convalescence. Groaning, he paused to suck in oxygen to his lungs, coughing again before he waded over to a clearing, where he leant his back against a tree to catch his breath. His pulse hammered in his temples and he panted for air.

When he heard his name called, it was so unexpected, he stood upright in one movement, and regretted it when his chest constricted again and he started to wheeze. Jennifer appeared through the bushes and into the clearing. Her hair fell round her face, tugged free from her ponytail and a scratch adorned her arm but the concern in her face was all for him.

Hurrying over to him, she clasped his arm. "Don, are you okay?"

Although he attempted to answer breezily, his feet betrayed him as he stumbled. Jennifer held on and he found himself with his back once more against a tree trunk, while she crouched in front of him.

"Clearly you're not okay. You need to rest for a few minutes and get your breath back," she said, studying his face with worried eyes. "I'm going to take a look through those trees," she indicated with a nod of her head, "I got a hunch she might be in there."

"I'll help..." he croaked before losing coherence in a hacking cough that left him gasping for breath and wiping his mouth. "Sorry," he managed to gasp and Jennifer pursed her lips, not losing the anxiety for him, the intenseness of which startled him.

"Don't apologise. Listen, speaking as a nurse, I think the best thing you can do is sit down here, okay?" Her hand took hold of his, the touch giving him comfort.

He nodded, offering her a few more words, "Be careful."

She smiled then. "Of course." And got to her feet, her hand sliding out of his, he missing the sensation as soon as it was gone.

Frustrated with himself, he watched as Jennifer stepped over tangles of snake-like tree roots, knotted, sinuous and dark, glistening with damp where the sun's heat had not penetrated. Into the grove of wide-girthed oaks and mountain ash she stepped and he watched until he couldn't bear to any longer. Heaving himself to his feet, Don shambled after her, his nose and mouth full of the moist air and the scents of sweet, rotten leaves and wood, mosquitoes whining round him.

"Jennifer!" the shout came from his mouth without any conscious thought; the images the surroundings had provoked in his imagination had caught him unawares. A flash of her red dress attracted him and he plunged towards it, almost crying out with relief when she answered him.

"I got – got a little spooked," he offered, seeing her enquiring expression and she nodded in understanding, a shiver passing over here.

"It is kind of spooky," she said, glancing round her. "I hope Lucy isn't scared."

Don shook his head. "She's a tough kid. Isn't much that scares her, believe me. I remember she got shut in the cellar accidentally not so long ago when I was round there. None of us realised she'd crept in there. She didn't turn a hair. Found her sitting on the steps waiting for us, cool as anything."

Jennifer smiled. "She's quite the adventurer."

"Takes after her parents." Don coughed, his breathing returning to normal levels at last and saw the uncomfortable expression on Jennifer's face which reminded him of Lindsay's earlier words.

"What about up here?" she said, her voice abrupt as she gestured to a crook-backed oak tree, a little way ahead of them, resting on an embankment of earth. Its reptile-like roots spread wide, gripping the uneven surface. Both approached it carefully and Don saw, as they climbed up, that beyond it the earth had crumbled away to form a deep pit with sheer, slippery sides.

"Watch your step," he warned as Jennifer climbed up further.

"Of course," was her reply as she pulled herself up to the top of the embankment, grasping a low branch as she crouched down and peered down.

A gasp broke from her and her head snapped round to Don. "I've found her. She's here."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Lily x<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Disappointingly, the characters are _still_ not mine  
><strong>

**Notes: Thank you for the reviews for last chapter; please continue! Thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for the help with this chapter :)  
><strong>

Chapter 11

_"She's here!"_

After meeting Jennifer's eyes, full of joy and triumph, Don sagged with relief and the dark green grove full of sinister possibilities became just a copse of trees.

Grabbing a branch to haul himself up with, he managed, with some dexterous movements, to perch himself beside her.

"Look, between the roots," Jennifer continued to speak in a low voice. "She's tucked herself in there and fallen asleep, see?"

Don peered over her shoulder to where she pointed and saw the sleeping little girl. Even in the dimness he could see her face was tear-streaked and in her arms she clutched a small bear.

"Thank God," he murmured and shifted himself round, balancing even more precariously as he yelled, "Lindsay! We've found her, she's safe."

Turning to see Jennifer's startled glance, he grinned. "Lucy has the ability to sleep with a pneumatic drill going next to her."

"Oh..." Understanding dawned. "No wonder she didn't hear us."

"We couldn't be sure she was asleep though," Don pointed out and she nodded. "Problem we got now is how to move her out of there without waking her up," he continued, glancing down again with a grim look into the pit below. It was all too obvious how easy it would be for one false move to send Jennifer tumbling down.

Catching the sound of Lindsay's hurried approach, he turned again to call, "We're over here."

Jennifer glanced down into the pit and back up at Don. Then manoeuvring herself an inch at a time, she positioned herself so her back was to the drop down and she faced Don. As she gripped a root with her fingertips, she drew her eyebrows together in concentration. "If I can just get..."

Don lurched forward, grabbing her wrist just in time as her foot scrabbled for a hold and her other hand clamped down on a handful of grass. "Thank you," she breathed giving him a sheepish look and he released a long breath.

"Any time."

"Where is she? Where's my little girl?" Lindsay's unnaturally high voice reached them and still clutching Jennifer's hand, Don craned his neck to look at her.

"She's fine, Linds. Sleeping. We're going to lift her out and we'll pass her down to you, okay?"

Already though, Lindsay had started to scramble up the slope so Don held out his hand to stop her. "There's no more room here, trust us, okay? We'll get her down safe to you."

Lindsay hesitated for a moment before she nodded and made her way back down to the ground, standing wringing her hands.

Giving her a reassuring smile, Don drew in a breath and turned back to Jennifer. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready."

Teeth nipping at her bottom lip, she lowered her right foot, finding a hollow. Testing found it satisfactory and she moved closer to Lucy. Don sucked his bottom teeth, his eyes never leaving Jennifer. Edging sideways, she looked up at him, giving him a quick smile before she stretched out a tentative hand towards Lucy's bower.

"Almost there," she murmured.

"You're doing great," Don told her before raising his voice for Lindsay's benefit. "We'll have her out and safe in no time."

Jennifer eased herself closer, retracting her hand while she found herself a more secure position. Don watched her brace her feet so her hands could be free and in turn, he slid forward with care, knee scraping on a root, ready to grab Lucy as soon as Jennifer had her.

"Whenever you're ready," he said.

Quick and precise, Jennifer removed Lucy's bear and gave that to Don. Lindsay fumbled when he dropped it down to her, picking it up from the ground where it had slipped from her hands.

His attention returned to Jennifer, who with furrowed forehead slid her hands beneath the sleeping child and withdrew her from the den in one swift movement. Don snatched her just as Lucy's mouth opened to protest and she began to wriggle, and dangled her down to her mother who grabbed her, seizing her in a fierce embrace as Lucy's face screwed up in distress at being woken so abruptly.

Face burrowed in her daughter's hair, Lindsay rocked Lucy from side to side, hushing her and stroking her back, pressing kisses to her head while Lucy's wails sounded.

Don's head dropped onto his chest as he exhaled, knuckles ivory around the tree root.

"Are you all right?" He looked into Jennifer's slightly pale but smiling face and a grin of sheer relief bloomed on his face as he grabbed her hands.

"I'm okay."

It took only moments to haul her to safety and both a little giddy with their success, they sat for a moment on top of the embankment simply smiling at each other.

They clambered down together to join Lindsay and Lucy, now sniffling and rubbing her eyes as she clung to her mother. Between her admonishments and endearments to Lucy, Lindsay spoke to them. "Thank you so much," she said, eyes glinting with tears, "and... and I'm sorry, too, for what I said earlier to you."

"It's okay, you were upset," Jennifer said, her fingers squeezing Don's. She smiled at Lindsay. "I've forgotten already."

"How did you find her?" Lindsay asked, calming now as she smeared the last of her tears away from her eyes and continued to rub Lucy's back with her free hand.

Jennifer glanced at Don. "It just seemed the sort of thing a child would do, and the sort of place she might find a hidey-hole." Her shoulders lifted in a light, dismissive shrug just as the sound of voices calling them from the garden reached them.

Guilt leaping into her face, Lindsay startled. "Danny," she breathed and looked to Don with a plea in her eyes.

He gave Lindsay a quick reassuring smile and ruffled Lucy's hair, speaking in a bright and cheerful voice. "Hey, Luce, how about we go meet Daddy back from town, see if he remembered to get all the stuff Mommy asked him to, huh?"

The mumble and sniff that Lucy gave him along with the movement of her head he took as consent and started to lead the small party out of the wooded grove, but a pull from Jennifer stopped him.

"This way. There's a kind of tunnel, must have been a path at some time, it's probably quicker."

For a flash of seconds, Don remembered the tour of the house and her reactions to the rooms and wondered, but he saw no reason to argue and Lindsay offered no contradiction so they followed their house guest, Lindsay walking between Jennifer and him with Lucy still in her arms. That they had come so far from the garden surprised him. However, Jennifer's surmise proved sound and they were soon pushing their way back to the open lawns, where Mac, Stella and Danny stood, turning in surprise at their appearance.

As they emerged into the steel-tinged sunlight, Don blinked and almost stumbled over a root in his lapse of concentration. The heat was thick, palpable almost and his shirt seemed to have glued itself to his skin. No one but Jennifer noticed his slip which he realised when she brushed his arm, steadying him with discretion and a brief smile. He took the moment to stand still, Jennifer beside him and watch the unfolding aftermath.

Danny's attention was all on his wife and child, Mac's had become distracted by Stella as he stood with his arm round her while she shook her head at something he seemed to have asked.

At the sight of her husband, Lindsay had all but collapsed, her knees bending, Lucy sliding down to land on the grass unhurt.

"Danny I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for losing her..." Lindsay gasped. Bewildered, her husband looked at Don, who explained rapidly what had happened. When he had done so, Danny drew his wife even more closely to him.

"Lindsay, honey, sweetheart, it doesn't matter. She's safe, it's okay. It's not your fault," he murmured into her hair, enfolding his sobbing wife in his arms while Lucy wrapped her arms round his legs. Mac and Stella glanced at each other and by unspoken mutual agreement, began to make their way indoors, Mac giving a wary glance at the sky as they went.

"We should..."

"Probably head indoors," he finished Jennifer's sentence and she gave a short laugh.

"Seems like we're in for a thunderstorm unless I very much miss my guess."

As a wire of sweat seemed to uncoil itself down his neck and back and the oppressive heat became like a band round his head, Don could only nod in agreement. "One heck of a storm." He laid a hand on Jennifer's back. "Go on ahead, I'll make sure they get inside safely."

"It's fine, I'll wait with you," she said, the briefest look of hurt appearing in her face and he kicked himself.

"I just don't want you getting wet if it's going to rain," he explained and she softened, but still gave him a wry look.

"A bit of rain isn't going to hurt me, Don."

"Oh really?" He feigned surprise.

"Really." She grinned. "I'm not a delicate flower, I've been caught out in rainstorms many times and they've never done me any harm."

Don adjusted his features to look concerned. "You should watch out, if I'm not careful, I start to melt in the rain."

He sniggered at her expression, before turning back to the Messer family.

"Come on you guys." He laid an arm round Danny's shoulders as a fat raindrop plopped onto his head. "Let's get back indoors before we all get soaked."

"We're coming," Danny answered; his arm round Lindsay's waist his other hand holding his daughter's.

"Daddy, carry me," she pleaded, and Danny glanced at Lindsay who gave him a tremulous smile.

"She wants you to," she said simply and after a searching look at her, Danny scooped Lucy up who clung, Koala bear-like to his side. With Lindsay leaning into his other side, thus balanced, he limped back to the house. Don idled a little way behind them, Jennifer slowing to meet his pace, both of them uncaring of the raindrops which had begun to fall thick and fast from a sky now like smoked glass.

They reached the shelter of the porch only just in time. As the concussion of thunder shook the heat-thickened air, a medley of exclamations came from those indoors and outdoors. Pushing Jennifer in front of him, Don slammed the door shut as the ground began to boil with rain and lightning slashed a rent across the clouds.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you think. Lily x<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Sadly, the characters are _still_ not mine  
><strong>

**Notes: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter; I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for the help with this chapter :)  
><strong>

Chapter 12

Safe inside the living room, Don shook water out of his hair and glanced round at everyone. Danny had just sat down on one of the couches next to Lindsay and lifted Lucy onto his knee. She immediately buried her face in her father's chest and wrapped her arms round him, Danny giving a shrug to Lindsay as she did so. On the other couch Stella sat sideways, cushions behind her, her legs resting across Mac's knees as he massaged her ankles. She had leant the side of her head against the back of the couch and looked listless and uncomfortable.

But with Mac in attendance, there was nothing more Don needed to do and instead he headed to the linen closet and pulled out a couple of towels for himself and Jennifer. On his way back to her, he glanced up at the clock in the hallway and suffered a shock when he saw that it was after 4 o'clock. Letting out a whistle under his breath, he hurried on, deciding that something to eat was required for all of them; something his stomach wholeheartedly agreed with. First though, he found Jennifer waiting for him in the hallway and gave her a towel.

"Thank you." Her smile illuminated her eyes and as another crash of thunder sounded overhead, their gazes held, enthralled, the kisses they had shared present again, light on their lips, the memory returning.

It was Danny and Lindsay who interrupted them on this occasion. There was no comment from either though as he and Jennifer drew apart; instead, weary and with Lucy once again latched onto his side, Danny told them, "Lucy's come to say thanks to you both. We decided bed's the best place for a little girl who's had too much adventuring for one day."

"Don't want to go to bed," Lucy wailed from the depths of her father's shirt and Danny twisted his head to try and look at her.

"I know you don't, honey, but sometimes you have to do what you don't want to. And you'll feel better after you've had your supper and a nap."

"It's been a long day, sweetie," Lindsay added in a soft voice. "We're all tired."

"Your Mom and Dad are right, Luce," Don added, after catching Danny's eye, and realising that it was less a punishment for Lucy than a benefit. "If you go to bed and go to sleep it'll be time to get up again before you've even realised it."

An incoherent sob came from the little girl as Danny sighed. "I think Lucy's thank you for finding her and getting her out safely is going to have to wait."

"It's not necessary..." Jennifer started but Danny was resolute.

"Yes it is, and that goes for me and Linds, too." Lindsay nodded in silence, gripping her husband's arm. Their looks revealed all their fears for what might have happened and Don spoke gruffly in response. "Any time, you know that."

He watched as his friends carried their daughter to their bedroom and gave Jennifer a rueful smile. "It's tough being a parent, huh? Guess it's not something I'm cut out for."

It was said with some facetiousness but Jennifer's face was serious. "I think you'd make a great father," she spoke quietly and he was hushed; struggling with how enormous a responsibility being a parent was, while at the same time, realising the possibilities it held.

They stood where they were; Don watching Jennifer, who had a single drop of rainwater slipping down her cheek. In the fullness of the moment, he reached and caught it on his fingertip where it rolled off and onto the floor. She smiled, and leaned forward to kiss him, her lips light for just a second on his mouth before she drew back, observing him with her head a little to the side.

"How about after we've gotten changed into dry clothes, we get something to eat and drink for everyone? I don't know about you, but all that searching made me kind of hungry."

He grinned in delight. "You're a woman after my own heart." Then as the thought occurred to him, he asked, "Do you have something to change into?"

"I always pack several spare outfits." She smiled. "Is it okay for me to use the nursery again?"

"Sure, go right ahead," Don told her and watched her walk up the stairs before he went to his own room and changed quickly into dry clothes, tossing his wet ones into the bathroom before hurrying downstairs in time to be waiting for Jennifer as she came down more sedately. He held his hand out to her as she descended the last couple of steps, and with a smile, she caught hold of it.

Fingers entwined, sharing smiles and glances, they made their way to the kitchen and enjoying themselves thoroughly, they put together a feast of salad, iced drinks, sandwiches and thick slices of Martha's apple pie. It turned into a lengthier process than they had planned and more than half an hour passed before they bore the meal through to the living room on trays. All the while the rain continued to cascade, slithering down the windows and hissing on the roof. They had switched all the lights on, but even that failed to fully dispel the premature twilight.

In the living room, Don and Jennifer's appearance was greeted with appreciation. Having just sat down, the Messers looked wan and tired, nevertheless they welcomed the refreshments, as did Mac. Stella made a half-hearted attempt at enthusiasm but it was clear she wasn't interested and Don put her lack of appetite down to the heat that still pervaded the room.

"How was Luce?" he asked Danny once everyone had been served something to eat and drink and he had sat down beside Jennifer.

"Exhausted by her adventures," he sighed as Lindsay snuggled into his side. "She was dozing off in the tub and fell asleep right after telling us she'd only wanted to show Betty the gardens."

"As we thought." Don glanced at Jennifer who gave a brief smile. Silence fell for some minutes while they ate and drank. Sitting beside Jennifer, Don felt none of the trace of envy he'd experienced previously when seeing his friends happy together; his focus was on the woman next to him and soon, without effort, their fingers curled round each other's, joining their two hands together.

Once thirst and hunger had been sated, they all sat back and smiles, with a little uncertainty in some of them, were exchanged. It was then that Lindsay met Don's eyes. "Don, about earlier..." she started but he interrupted.

"I don't want to hear any more, Linds," he said. "It was no one's fault and no one got hurt. Lucy's safe and so are all of us. There's nothing more to be said."

"Don's right," Mac put in and Stella nodded.

"See, even Mac agrees with me." Don grinned at Lindsay, pleased to see her face relaxing.

"It happens sometimes," Mac said dryly.

"You're all so sweet," Lindsay said as Danny kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, especially you and Jennifer, Don. You hardly know us, Jennifer," she continued with self-consciousness, "what must you think of us with all this?"

"I think you're all truly gracious to have offered me your hospitality," she said earnestly. "I'm only pleased I was able to help.

"We appreciate it," Danny told her. "Besides, seems Lucy's taken to you and I trust my daughter's judgement." He smirked before adding, "She's a Messer, she's a smart kid."

"Who takes after her Mom." Don's retort was automatic and drove away the last of the sober mood that had gloomed round them.

"Smarter than _you'll_ ever be, Flack," Danny shot back but Don rebutted the insult with a shrug.

"I got no problem with that. I'm as smart as I'm ever going to get and as smart as I need to be. Anyhow," he turned to his other friends with a sly look, "Mac and Stell have got us all beat when it comes to being smart."

"Oh no, don't draw us into your fights, kids," Stella interjected, twisting round to frown at them in her best matriarchal style, while Mac chuckled as he continued to rub her back.

"I'll second what my wife says. You kids better behave."

With a snicker, Don answered him back, "Sure thing, _Dad_," Before he decided to switch to another topic which had been on his mind. "So, seeing as this rain isn't going to be stopping anytime soon, maybe you'd be best off staying here for the night, Jennifer. What do you think?"

At first she looked flustered and glanced round at everyone. "I don't want to impose on you guys and outstay my welcome. This is your vacation after all."

"We'd like you to stay," Lindsay offered, shyly, and Stella added her own invitation.

"It's nice to add you to our company, Jennifer. Besides," she gave Don a knowing smile, "We're really as much Don's guests as you are and as he's got no objection to you staying, neither have we."

"It's very kind of you," Jennifer said, addressing everyone although her hand had crept into Don's again. "Thank you, I'd love to stay."

"Then that's settled." Don grinned, relieved and pleased. "Now none of us has to stir a step outside, we can relax and look forward to dinner later." Ignoring the rolling of eyes from his friends, he ploughed on. "So how about a game of poker to wile away a couple of hours? There's a whole lot of playing cards in the chest over there, I found them a few days ago when I was poking about. Martha told me to help myself."

He looked round at the amused but interested faces of his friends. "So any of you guys want to challenge me?" he asked again. "Stell, you got no chance of beating me, neither have you, Messer, your faces give you away too much." He insulted them casually, with a wink in his eye. "Mac and Lindsay, little more difficult, maybe... and Jennifer, I don't know..." Studying her, he grinned and then turned back to others. "So, who's in?"

After a glance at her husband, Lindsay answered first. "Well, seeing as you've complimented me so nicely, how could I refuse?" Don chuckled at her dry tone. "But I'm going to check on Lucy first."

"Sure." Don smiled. "We'll wait for you."

"I'll come with you." Danny got to his feet and gave a hand to Lindsay, before they left the room together.

"Mac? Stell?" Don looked from one to the other after picking out a set of cards.

Stella smiled. "Sure, why not? What do you say, Mac? Think we can beat him?"

Before Mac responded, he looked at his wife with a frown, sweeping free a curl that had clung to her jaw line.

"Are you up to a game? It's been a long day."

A grimace crossed her face. "It's barely after 6, Mac, don't fuss..." Before she broke off, wincing as her hand moved to her back.

It did not escape Jennifer. "Are you all right, Stella? Are you sure it's just the baby moving around?"

Biting back a gasp, Stella nodded mutely, her breathing fast and her lower lip held between her teeth.

Mac's face was creased with disquiet. "Perhaps if you lie down for a while..."

Stella shook her head, answering with vehemence. "No. That's _not_ going to help." Turning to her husband, she clasped his hand. "It's okay, really, Mac. I'd tell you if I thought it was anything we needed to worry about." She managed a jerky laugh. "Our son or daughter's telling me they're bored. If we walk around a bit, it should settle them."

Though sceptical, Mac rose from the couch and helped her up. Once standing he secured his arm round her waist and she, running her hand over her stomach, leaned against him.

"We'll just take a walk around the house, maybe look out the door at the rain to cool down," she said, glancing out of the un-curtained window.

"Maybe we should phone the doctor," Mac suggested, making no move to leave the room.

"No," she said through clenched teeth and Don saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes then. "There's really no need for that."

"Don't be afraid that suggesting the doctor means that there's something wrong," Jennifer spoke in a gentle voice as she took a step towards Stella who answered in a politely brittle voice.

"I think _I _know best what I need, and I _don't_ need a doctor. Come on, Mac."

Mac's face was now a carved mask but he walked with Stella from the room and Don watched them leave in silence. Setting down the wallet of playing cards in his hand, he saw scarlet indents left in his palm. As he glanced at Jennifer, he saw her lips were set straight and her eyes were narrowed as she still stared at the door.

"Something's not..."

"Don!" Mac's shout had them both sprinting out of the room and into the hallway where they found him crouched beside Stella who had collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, her face twisted in pain, gasping for breath as she failed to stifle a cry.

Mac murmured comfort to his wife as she looked up at them, her eyes dilated with fear.

"The-the baby," she panted, "I think the baby's coming."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! Please spare a minute to leave a review - I'd love to know what you think. Lily x<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Sadly, the characters are _still_ not mine  
><strong>

**Notes: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter; I really appreciate it and please continue to do so. Thanks to _Ballettmaus_ and _Suallenparker_ for their great help with this chapter :)  
><strong>

Chapter 13

In the following breathless moments, Don felt his insides lurch as he gaped at Stella.

"But it's too soon," he protested. "At least a month too soon."

"Too soon or not, this baby wants _out_," Stella groaned. Another surge of pain passed through her as she gasped and locked her fingers round Mac's. A drop of blood swelled on her bottom lip where her teeth had pierced the skin.

"Don, the doctor," Mac rasped, glaring up at him and Don needed no second bidding.

"I'm on it."

He stumbled as he ran through to the sitting room where the telephone was kept. Outside, the wind and rain still battered the house and he gave an involuntary shiver as he glanced through the window before picking up the receiver and spinning the dial.

A crackling and hissing jarred his ear once he had dialled the number instead of the familiar ringing sound. Cursing, he crashed the receiver down onto the cradle before picking it up and dialling again, his fingers slipping on the dial this time. No ringing sound again, the line hissed and then died completely.

"Dammit!" Enraged at the failed piece of machinery, he shook the receiver, pressed the cradle again and again, receiving only what sounded like the faint hum of rain down the wires.

Leaving the receiver dancing like a hanged man on its cord, Don ran back to the hallway, and stopped dead at the sight of Stella struggling to her feet, assisted by Mac and Jennifer, the demise of the telephone leaving his mind for the moment.

"Stell, what the heck are you doing?"

His demand was met by a glare from Stella. "This baby is _not _going to be born in a hallway," she said, somewhat breathless. Mac looked grim-faced at the idea of his wife moving anywhere at this moment, but made no comment and Stella continued, directing her words to Mac, "I can make it upstairs to the... to the bedroom if you just give me a hand to do so." She took an unsteady step and Mac gripped her arm.

"I really don't think your baby is going to mind where it's born," Don said, his hands out ready to catch Stella if she fell.

"Agreed," Mac put in, his gaze locked on Stella. "You don't need to move anywhere. If our baby's born in the hallway, then so be it."

Stubborn, still, despite the pain she was clearly in, Stella shook her head and took another step. "I can make it up a flight of stairs."

"What if you can't? What if you only make it half-way? What then?" Mac countered.

"I won't..."

"Guys, listen," Don interrupted, the issue of pressing importance finding its way back into the forefront of his mind. "The phone's out of order so I'm going to drive over to fetch the Doc."

It silenced the little group. All of them stared nonplussed at him.

"But the storm." Jennifer's eyes had widened in alarm.

"It's only a bit of wind and water." He shrugged, almost amused at their reactions, but touched also. "I was only kidding when I said I'd melt."

No amusement registered on any of the faces in front of him.

"No." Stella shook her head. "You can't go out in this; this is no weather for walking or driving..." With a sharp intake of breath, she sat down abruptly on the stairs and clutched at her stomach.

"Stella, I don't think you're going to be able to make it upstairs," Mac said, as he crouched beside her, an underlying gentleness in his voice despite his firm tone.

"I _have_ to," she insisted, determination mixed with panic in her eyes, "I can't have our baby born on the stairs... oh, God!"

Unable to hold back a scream, she doubled over, her features screwing up in agony. Mac rubbed her back, his tone calm, but his face betraying that he was anything but. "Then we'll get you upstairs," he said.

Sliding his arm round her, he continued speaking quietly and reassuringly to her. "I'll carry you up to our room and we'll get you comfortable." Carefully, he slipped his other hand under her knees and lifted her. Groaning in pain, Stella nevertheless managed to clasp her hands round his neck and he straightened up, holding her steadily as he turned his head towards Don. "If you can get to the Doc's place safely, go."

Don saw how much fear and desperation his friend was trying to hide and answered with a confidence he didn't quite feel. "I can get there."

Mac tipped his head in acknowledgement and with Stella in his arms he made his way up the rest of the stairs, Jennifer following.

"Hang in there, Stell; I'll be as quick as I can." Don called, already walking backwards down the hall before turning and snatching his coat and hat from the little closet in the hall.

"I'll do what I can until you get back. Be careful," Jennifer called down from the landing as he reached the front door.

"Promise." He flashed a smile at her before he yanked open the front door, to be greeted by what felt like a sailcloth of wind and rain slapping him in the face. Gasping, he nevertheless fought his way outside and slammed the door behind him. Some of the almost supernatural energy and ferocity of the storm and the situation his friends now faced had breached his usual stolidity and he ran to the car as if pursued. Even though it was a matter of a few yards from the front door to his car, by the time he reached it, his clothes were dark with rainwater and his skin was streaming. Glancing at the house with its lighted windows, he started the car and it coughed into life; the wipers jerked across the screen and he drove off into the maelstrom.

The car bounced its way down the drive, whining as he spun it round the bend that led onto the road. Lightning still sliced across the clouds and thunder came in mountain lion roars as he drove, each one seeming to shake the car even more than the potholes he drove over. Visibility was blurry and dim, the landscape turned into a mass of waterlogged shadows and he sat as far forwards as he could, squinting through the rain. At least he knew the route to the Hammerbacks' house, the couple having driven him there to take tea on the second day of his arrival. He drove as fast as he dared and the car rattled onwards, shaking his bones as it passed over every rut and bump. By the time he got to his destination, he thought wryly, his skeleton would probably be completely askew, and as the car hit a particularly deep pot hole, he winced.

The car did more than wince. One spine-juddering thud later and its engine made a strange choking sound and gurgled to a stop.

Don blinked in disbelief, hands still welded to the steering wheel.

"Oh no... no way... don't you _dare_..." Cursing modern machines, particularly cars and telephones, he pushed the starter button over and over, causing the engine to cough a few times and fail.

"Come on, dammit, start!" he growled but the engine was unmoved and unresponsive.

For a few moments, he sat, paralysed, unable to accept the failure until, realising he was going to get nowhere by sitting there, he punched the steering wheel, banged the door open and after turning up his collar, splashed into the road.

With a grunt of disgust for the rain slithering down his neck, despite his turned-up collar, he started running. As far as he could estimate, he had about half a mile still to go before he reached the Hammerbacks' house. He pressed on. The rain fell harder and harder, obscuring the remains of the light still further, hard as graphite sticks as it hit his skin, bounced and shattered on the road.

It wasn't long before he started to pant with the exertion, but kept jogging at a pace he judged he could sustain. He was soon tiring again, but set his jaw and kept on though his legs began to feel mechanical and his lungs tingled. Somewhere along the way a gust tore his hat from his head and sent it tumbling away over hedge. He let it go and carried on.

His chest hurt and his ears buzzed, his legs were stiffening up, feeling rusted, but with a growl of scorn for those physical weaknesses he pushed himself to keep up a steady pace.

At the shape of a house looming just beyond a hedgerow, he gave a cry of triumph and channelled the last of his energy into a spurt to the finish. A light glowed in a downstairs window, he saw as he drew closer, breaking into a trot as he almost fell through the white picket gate.

Banging on the front door with his fists, he yelled out, "Dr Hammerback! Sid!" Waiting only a few seconds before he tried again. "Hey, Dr Hammerback! We got an emergency!"

Still no answer. Don dithered, staring at the door and contemplating exactly how long, and how much effort it would take to break it down.

But that was a little too extreme and would cause the Hammerbacks distress, he decided, rationality returning. Breaking down the front door would be a last resort. Instead, he ran along the porch to one of the front windows to peer in. The front room was empty but he caught a swelling sound of classical music from within and rushed round to the back of the house. A window at the far corner threw a slant of light onto the dark green, glistening expanse of lawn and Don ran towards it.

Relief poured through him as he saw the doctor inside seated in an armchair, chin resting on his chest, spectacles about to topple from his nose and a newspaper limp across his knees, the music obviously coming from the gramophone player in the corner of the room. On the opposite armchair, the Hammerbacks' cat, William, had curled himself into a mound of black fur. As soon as Don's palm smacked against the window, the huge cat opened one eye a sliver, regarding Don with disdain before settling back to sleep again. He cursed the creature for not alerting the doctor; irrational, but it made him feel slightly better.

"Dr Hammerback," he shouted, banging the window again, scoring a victory when the doctor jerked awake, his spectacles tumbling, along with his newspaper, to the floor. When he saw Don, the expression on his face turned to bewilderment and he leaped out of the chair with surprising agility and hurried over to the window.

With a gesture, he indicated the back door and his intention to open it and Don made his way to it.

"Mr Flack!" Hammerback exclaimed as he tugged the door open. "What..."

"Stella... the baby... coming early... you got to come," Don gasped, his hand braced against the door frame. "Right now... she needs you."

The doctor understood at once. Tugging Don inside, he thrust a towel at him while he rushed round, collecting various items and placing them into his voluminous black medical bag. In a little under five minutes, both he and Don sat in his car, clad in waterproofs and hats; Don a little drier, the doctor a little wetter. The rain had increased and even oilskins offered scant protection.

As the doctor set off, Don leaned back in his seat, gradually feeling his breathing returning to normal levels, although now he could not stop shivering. Despite that, he answered the doctor's few but precise questions about the lead-up to Stella's early labour.

"She'll be okay though, and the baby, too, right?" he asked once he had answered, wrapping his arms round himself to try and control the shivers.

"I'm sure she will be," Hammerback answered, his face reassuring and Don said no more.

As soon as they turned down the driveway and came in sight of the house, its visage lit pale and shining in the car headlights, the front door opened. Danny's figure stood, outlined like a daguerreotype in the hallway, waiting as Don and the doctor got out of the car and ran up the steps.

"Upstairs. First door on the left," Danny said, stepping aside to let the doctor past. Acknowledging him with the briefest of nods, Hammerback hurried up the stairs, shedding his overcoat and hat as he went and leaving them draped over the banisters.

"How's Stell doing?" Don asked while removing his borrowed outer garments and tossing them over the newel post.

Danny, in response, looked sober, glancing upstairs when a groan of agony rising to a scream from Stella reached their ears. "No sign of the baby yet," he replied. "As far as I know. Haven't been in there myself but Lindsay's with them, been fetching towels, blankets, and hot water. Jennifer mentioned there was a cradle in the nursery and we decided the Angells wouldn't mind us using it in the circumstances. We've left it there for now though. You and me can always carry it along later, right?"

"Sure," Don said absently, his eyes still focused upstairs and one foot on the bottom of the stairs. About to proceed upwards, he was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned to face a stern look from Danny.

"They've got it covered up there, Flack," he said. "Mac ain't moving from Stella's side and Jennifer and Lindsay are doing all the stuff that women seem to know needs doing when there's a baby coming. Ain't no need for anyone else to be there... I'm just repeating what Lindsay said to me. More or less," he added, a faint grin on his face. "All _you_ need to do is go take a hot shower and get some dry clothes on before you go getting sick again and_ I_ get your Ma on the phone demanding to know how I let that happen to her son." Danny's grin, suffering a little from his exasperation caused Don to return him a frown.

"There's got to be something I can help with."

"No." Danny folded his arms across his chest and glowered at his friend. "You fetched the Doc already. If they need us later, they know where we are. Best help you can give Mac and Stella right now is looking after yourself, so no one else has got to."

It made sense, reluctant as Don was to concede that, and there were no other arguments he could offer.

"Okay, I get your point, Messer. I'll go warm up."

"You do that." Danny nodded, approving.

He had to admit, the thought of a hot shower and dry clothes was appealing, especially now that his wet clothes had begun to turn clammy and frigid. He shivered and Danny clapped him on the back. "I'll get some fresh coffee on; something tells me it's going to be a long night."

"Yeah," he grunted and started up the stairs, pausing as the sound of further cries from Stella and rising and falling voices from the others in the room came down to him and Danny.

"It'll be okay, Don," Danny said quietly.

His gaze met Danny's. "It has to be," he said, his voice flat. Any other outcome was unthinkable.

Leaving Danny letting out a slow exhalation, Don climbed the stairs and made his way to his bedroom. Less than a minute later, he had peeled off his saturated clothes and stepped under the shower.

The near-scalding torrent shot warmth through him instantly. Tipping his head back with a groan, he let the water flood over him and revive him and as it did, he sent up a swift prayer for his friends as he stared at the ceiling, blinking water out of his eyes.

Thoroughly warmed and revitalised, he stood towelling himself dry with one of the thick and scrubby towels that the housekeeper had provided, when he heard a knock at the door.

"Hey, Flack, you decent?" Danny called.

After dragging on a pair of pants, he responded, "About half."

"Which half?" Danny queried, dead-pan, and Flack shook his head and grinned.

"Just about to pull my shirt on."

"Good enough." A foot and a walking stick pushed the door open, sending Don hurrying, as he did up the last few buttons on his shirt, to open it fully. Revealed was Danny balancing a tray loaded with mugs, coffee pot and plates, while his stick hung over his arm.

"Coffee and cookies," he announced with a grin. "Never say I don't do nothing for you."

Allowing a smile to flicker across his face, Don took the tray, relaxing when it was safely in his two hands and Danny was steady once more with his stick.

"Messer, you're a good man," he said and Danny looked satisfied as he sat down in a wicker chair.

"So I tell myself," he said, sighing as he settled himself in the chair and stretched his leg out. "Checked on Lucy before I headed up here, still sound asleep."

"Good." Don nodded, relieved as he handed Danny a mug of coffee and took one for himself. "Best thing for her, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Gave her kind of a shock, all that happened," Danny said in thoughtful tones as he sipped at his coffee.

"Lindsay, too," Don said, eyeing his friend and Danny sighed, nudging his glasses back up his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

"Yeah... We, uh, talked this evening, after Lucy fell asleep..." Half-sheepish, he glanced at his friend. "Probably more than we've done for a long time, since... since I was shot," he admitted gruffly. "But, guess it was time for that. We got a few things out in the open."

For a brief, telling moment he met his friend's eyes, and what Don saw gave him cause to smile.

"Good," was all he said.

They sipped their drinks, their ears alert to all the sounds that came from the Taylors' room down the hallway – faint but still audible were Stella's cries and the doctor's voice.

Still uneasy, Don glanced at the door. "Wonder how much longer," he murmured, half to himself.

Danny shrugged. "Guess it can't be much longer," he said. "I'm sure it didn't take this long when Lucy was born."

Despite his worries, Don smirked. "You didn't have that attitude at the time, if I remember right," he said, then screwed his face up in pretended thought. "Unless I'm badly mistaken and it _wasn't_ you I kept company while you paced the corridor of the nursing home, getting, uh a little _frustrated_ when I made the comment that these things take as long as they take?"

"Yeah, funny, Flack. Very funny." Danny scowled, but had the grace to look a little uncomfortable even as Don enjoyed a grin at his expense. "Anyhow, waiting isn't my favourite thing to do."

Don sobered. "Me neither."

Coffee finished, he found his shoes and sat down on the bed to put them on.

"I hate waiting," Danny grumbled.

Running his hands through his still damp hair, Don grunted in agreement.

"Nothing else we can do though, huh?" Eyebrows raised, his friend looked at him over the rim of his mug as he took another sip of his coffee.

"Guess we could clean up the cradle?" Don suggested.

"Sounds good to me." Danny smiled and Don led the way to the nursery where they collected the cradle and carried it back to his bedroom between them. Washing the dust off it and drying it occupied them for a little while, but once that task was completed they found themselves waiting restlessly again, the empty cradle sitting between them. They heard the door to the Taylors' room open; an anguished cry from Stella carrying clearly to them along with Mac's voice rising with fear before the closing door muffled them again. Footsteps hurried away down the stairs and Don sighed heavily; frustrated at his ignorance and his inability to do something concrete, and afraid of what might be happening.

Running his hand along the side of the cradle, he glanced up at Danny. "I never expected this would happen. Stell had come here to take things easy; the baby wasn't supposed to come yet."

Danny shrugged. "These things are a mystery to me. I guess when a baby decides it's ready, it's ready. We weren't expecting Lucy for a couple weeks when she decided to show."

"I remember." With a shake of his head, Don picked up a cookie and the silence between them resumed. As they sat and ate and drank, their gazes travelled round the room, drawn every few minutes to the door, while their ears were alert for all sounds that might give them a clue about what was happening. When both heard hurried footsteps coming back along the landing, they froze and Don felt his heart rate leap, but the footsteps went towards the Taylors' room, once more the door opened and shut, and they both slumped again.

Don looked down at his refilled mug, tipped the last mouthful down his throat and set it down on the bedside table. Its chink was echoed by the tap of Danny's cane on the floor.

More time passed. The coffee in the pot turned cold, the plate of cookies was reduced to a plate of crumbs. There were short periods of quiet, followed by flurries of voices carrying through to them and increasingly weary sounding cries from Stella. Don's forehead creased with concern; Stella was strong, but the baby seemed to be taking its time to appear and he wondered how much longer she would have to, and could, endure. How long it had been since he had left to fetch Hammerback, he had no idea. Hours, certainly.

But then came a short, sharp cry from Stella, a brief pause and then a piercing yell from what could only be a brand new set of lungs. Don glanced at Danny, and in unison, they rushed out of the room, hearing now a whole commotion of noise and activity. For a few moments they stood on the landing, unsure what to do, until the door to the Taylors' bedroom opened and Lindsay emerged, her face a mixture of emotions as she turned and saw them.

"What's happened? Is Stella okay? Is the baby?" Don felt his chest tightening with apprehension and anticipation as he strode up to her, seeing how tired and drawn she looked.

Ushering them back along the landing, Lindsay told them in a tight voice, "Stella's had a little girl: Jennifer is cleaning the baby up now and Dr Hammerback is seeing to Stella, she's completely exhausted..." She pushed a shaky hand through the locks of hair that had escaped from their fastenings and then her control seemed to crumple and she covered her face with her hands, breaking down into tears.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading! Please spare a minute to leave a review - I'd love to know what you think. Lily x<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Sadly, the characters are _still_ not mine  
><strong>

**Notes: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter; I really appreciate it and please continue to do so! Many thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for all her help with this chapter and thanks to _Suallenparker_ for helpful discussions about it :)  
><strong>

Chapter 14

Danny drew Lindsay to him, comforting her as best he could. "Hey, hey, honey, it's okay," he murmured as she clung to him, crying, her head buried in the crook of his neck, while Don stood by, feeling helpless all over again

"I'm-I'm sorry," Lindsay managed to choke out finally as she raised her head, "It all just - just got to me... everything that's happened today and - and then the baby coming so unexpectedly, and we were all so worried, and... and..."

A fresh wave of sobs threatened to overwhelm her, but Danny soothed her, holding her to him until she regained her composure. Dabbing at her eyes with a scruffy handkerchief her husband had rooted out for her, she began to apologise again until both Don and Danny put a stop to it.

"Hey, I'd probably be crying, too, if I'd been in there with all that going on." Danny kissed the top of her head as Lindsay managed a watery giggle.

"You wouldn't have been allowed. Mac was only allowed to stay because Stella told Dr Hammerback she wasn't going to have the baby without him there."

Danny sniggered and Don chuckled wryly, well able to imagine that.

"So Stella and the baby are really okay?" he asked and Lindsay nodded, sniffing and wiping away the last of her tears.

"Yes, the baby just took her time. Stella's exhausted but otherwise she's okay, really," she assured him and Don smiled, the burden of worry lifting from him at last. "It's no wonder she's been so tired the last few days, with the backache she's had being the first signs of labour," Lindsay continued with a faint smile, her own weariness evident. "She did admit she'd wondered if it might have been the baby coming but when nothing else happened, she didn't say any more about it."

"I'm picturing Mac's face when she owned up to that," Danny said with a smirk and Don grinned, having been doing the same thing.

"I think he's probably forgotten about that already," Lindsay said, a softness in her eyes. "Going by the look on his face, and Stella's, the moment the baby cried, they forgot about everything else in the world but her."

Her gaze returned to Danny and Don felt the slightest twinge of wistfulness again as his friends shared a memory and an emotion he had never been privy to.

Eager to rid himself of the feeling, he asked, "So, when do we get to see little Miss Taylor?"

Lindsay looked up at him, blinking. "I don't know..."

All three of them glanced towards the Taylors' room; Don half hoping the door might open and they would be beckoned in.

"How about you boys wait here and I'll go find out," Lindsay told them, looking almost her normal self again as she smoothed down her hair and wiped the last traces of tears off her cheeks. She then hurried away down the landing, tapped on the door, and slipped through the small gap that appeared before it closed again.

Unsure what to say now, Don sagged a little against a bookcase and Danny released a heavy sigh. They caught each other's eye and grinned self-consciously.

"Quite a day, huh?" Danny remarked and Flack crossed his arms over his chest, nodding.

"Yeah..."

Danny pushed his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose. "But it's all turned out okay." He gave Don an appraising look. "We got to thank you for a big part of that."

"I don't think so..."

"Come on, Flack, don't be modest, man: you helped find Lucy, you drove through a storm to fetch the doc for Stella."

"It wasn't anything special," Don said hastily and Danny shrugged.

"You helped out a lot of people today."

Deciding modesty wasn't going to get him far, Don grinned suddenly. "All in a day's work."

Danny smirked. "Flack to the rescue, huh?"

"You got it."

The two of them grinned at each other and a thought crossed Flack's mind. "Lucy's going to be in for a surprise when she wakes up; who's going to answer when she asks how the baby got here?" He snickered as Danny groaned and pressed his hand to his face.

"Her ma can answer any difficult questions..." Don gave him a sceptical look. "What? She's a woman; she knows the answers. And if she doesn't, I'll tell Lucy to go ask her Uncle Don," he added slyly and Don glowered.

"You do and I'm sending her back with a few questions 'Uncle Don' needs answering," he retorted just as the Taylors' room opened and Lindsay came out, hurrying over to them with a smile on her face.

"Dr Hammerback's allowing you a few minutes to visit," she said. "Stella wants to show her daughter off to her uncles and I've been sent to invite you both, although I think it might be best if you went one at a time so as not to crowd them."

Danny gave his wife an affectionate grin. "Good thing we've got you to keep us in check."

A slight blush in her cheeks, Lindsay justified herself, "Stella wouldn't mind, but Mac..."

"Is in full protective mode?" Don arched an eyebrow and Lindsay gave him a wry smile.

"Exactly."

"So how is the new father?" Danny asked.

Lindsay's smile broadened. "Proud doesn't even begin to describe him – I think it's just starting to sink in now."

Don felt a grin spread over his face. "I can imagine. Okay, so, what are we waiting for? We need to go greet the new arrival."

He was about to walk towards the room when Danny took a step forwards.

"You mind if I go first?" he asked. "Only, we want to get back to Lucy."

Swallowing his impatience, Don gestured him onwards. "Sure. Go right ahead."

The couple made their way along the landing hand in hand and Don sighed, leaning back against the bookcase. But, even though his shoulders were sagging and his body was weary, elation danced inside him: Mac and Stella had their long-awaited miracle, safe in their arms at last, and he was happy for them, more than happy.

With a smile light on his face, he strode back to his room, unwilling to spend any more time waiting inactively, and collected up the mugs and plates he and Danny had used before carrying them down to the kitchen, where he noted with raised eyebrows that it was now almost 3am.

He had just reached the top of the stairs on his return, when the door to Mac and Stella's room opened and the Messers came out.

Danny smirked and jerked his thumb behind him. "They're waiting for you in there."

"You off to bed now?" Don asked and Lindsay nodded, smothering a yawn with difficulty as she did so.

With a grin, he told them, "I'll see you later this morning, maybe _not_ so bright and early."

"With Lucy, mornings are always _early_, even if they're not bright. She'll be awake before 7 o'clock, and if we're not, she'll soon make sure we are." Danny rolled his eyes, suggesting his long suffering and Don chuckled, before embracing Lindsay, clapping Danny on the shoulder and wishing them good morning.

After watching them down the stairs, he turned to enter his friends' room as Doctor Hammerback and Jennifer came out.

The doctor peered over his spectacles at Don. "I'm pleased to see you warm and dry again, Mr Flack. You had quite the journey to fetch me. It was an admirable action on your part."

"It was no trouble." Don lifted his shoulders, hoping he wouldn't have to go through more unnecessary praise of his actions.

Hammerback patted his arm. "Well then, let me simply say that you did a very good deed today." His eyes twinkled at both Don and Jennifer. "You know, my dears, it's an occasion like this which makes all the trials and tribulations of a doctor's life worthwhile. Seeing Mr and Mrs Taylor as happy as they are with their baby girl, I could ask for nothing better as an outcome."

"Me neither," Don said emphatically, glancing, in what he hoped was an obvious manner towards the door. It was noted by Jennifer, who gave him a sympathetic look, but the doctor seemed oblivious.

"I have to say that Mrs Taylor is a quite determined and strong woman," Hammerback continued, musing. "Quite determined. Not every woman would have got through this as well as she did. It was not an easy birth, especially after one of the longest times in labour I've ever known." He shook his head in wonder. "Three days, I calculated it to have been."

At that, Don had to grin, despite his impatience. "Stell doesn't like to do things by halves. And, if there's anyone more determined than her, I've yet to meet them. Unless it's Mac when he's determined to make sure she's safe."

"Mr Taylor's devotion to his wife is plain," Hammerback said, and seemed about to say more, but Jennifer touched his arm.

"Doctor Hammerback, if it's okay with Don, how about we go down to the kitchen and I'll make us some coffee?"

Don gave her a broad smile, communicating his thankfulness with a brief lift of his eyebrows. "It's fine by me. You two go make yourselves at home, get something to eat and drink. I'll come join you when I've seen Mac and Stell. Just make sure you leave something for me." He smirked and Jennifer gave him a laughing look.

"I'll rustle you something up, don't worry."

"That would be agreeable," Hammerback said, adding a little wistfully, "I miss Martha's cooking when she's away."

"I believe there might be some of her apple pie left in the pantry." Jennifer raised her eyebrows at the doctor and his eyes lit up.

"Wonderful."

Slipping her arm through the doctor's, Jennifer led him downstairs, turning back to give Don another smile.

The door to his friends' room stood ajar, light slanting through the gap and after tapping softly, Don pushed it open as soon as he heard Mac's voice bid him enter.

Joy flooded through him when he saw the newly extended Taylor family. Mac perched on the edge of the bed at the side of Stella, who lay propped up by pillows while the baby slept in her arms. True to Lindsay's word, Stella looked exhausted – her hair damp with perspiration, dark smudges under her eyes. Mac also looked drained, making Don realise how much of an ordeal both his friends had gone through. Overpowering it all, however, was the look of bliss mingled with awe on their faces which he saw as they looked up at his entrance.

"Hey," he said softly. "Not disturbing you am I?"

"Not at all," Mac answered, smiling at him. "It's good to see you. We owe you our thanks, Don."

"You don't owe me anything," Don said as he walked over before bending down to kiss Stella's cheek and then leaning over to shake Mac's hand vigorously. "On the contrary, I owe _you_ both congratulations. How you doing?"

"Good," Stella told him, sitting herself up carefully with Mac's assistance and smiling tiredly at him, before adjusting the baby who had woken and begun to snuffle. "Very good. Doctor Hammerback's going to call and see us again in the morning, but he's happy with both of us."

Her daughter's head rested on her shoulder while she rubbed her back gently and Mac stroked the top of her head with one finger.

"I'm glad to hear that." His words were heartfelt and Stella touched his hand.

"At the very least, you got to accept our thanks," she said.

"That, I can do." He grinned and satisfied, she nodded, before sharing another eloquent glance with her husband.

Mac's face remained serious. "And we'd be honoured if you'll accept our request to be our daughter's godfather," he asked.

Don found his mouth dropping open. "Me?" he sputtered. "Are you sure? I mean, godfather, geez..." His gaze stuck to Mac's as he remembered his own earlier comments about fatherhood. "That's kind of a responsible position..."

"Which we think you'll be suited to perfectly," Mac told him with a hint of a smile playing round his mouth. Stella's smile was full-blown as she gave her husband a bright-eyed look and turned back to Don, waiting for his answer; an answer he realised he couldn't give her as he remained staring at the couple.

"So, you'll accept?" Stella asked, just a trace of doubt and hopefulness in her voice and Don opened his mouth, closed it again and swallowed.

"I... I... Heck, Stell, Mac, I..." In agitation, he looked between the two of them, who now looked uncertain. "I don't know what to say," he admitted, his face heating, his hands seeming to shove themselves into his pockets. "Not that I'm not honoured, and-and delighted to be asked, 'cause I am... It's just... I don't know if I'm the best guy to ask for that. I mean, even reading Lucy a bedtime story proved kind of challenging for me... You know I'm just a carefree bachelor..." But even as he heard himself say those last words, he realised they were a hollow excuse. He rubbed his jaw in a quick, jerky movement before folding his arms across his chest.

Again, Mac and Stella shared a look before Mac fixed his gaze on him, studying him. "Don," he began, pausing to lay his hand over Stella's, "If we didn't think you were capable or responsible enough, we wouldn't have asked you. Our child..." He broke off, his hand tightening round Stella's. "Our child is too important for that. We both trust you with our lives, and... and should the need ever arise for you to take care of _her_ life, we know you would."

Speech was impossible for Don. Awash with emotions; humility that his friends thought so much of him; pride and honour at the trust they had in him; fear at the possibility of having to take on so much and leave behind some of the easiness of his life.

Both Mac and Stella were watching him and at the hope in their eyes, he knew he could not disappoint them, and would endeavour to live up to the responsibility they had bestowed on him.

"Don?" Stella asked softly. "You will say yes, won't you?"

There was no other answer he could give.

"I'd be honoured to," he said with utmost sincerity.

Mac's face broke into a smile and he stood up, taking hold of Don's hand and shaking it with vigour.

"Thank you. That means a lot to us."

"And to me," he told them, feeling almost light-headed as Mac released his hand and he bent down again to embrace Stella, mindful of the baby.

Sitting himself down on the end of the bed, opposite Mac with his back resting against the bedstead, Don asked a question that had been buzzing in his mind as he watched the tiny girl curl and uncurl her fists, "So what's her name going to be? You two have been awfully quiet about that." He grinned widely at the dry look Mac gave him as he tore his gaze away from his daughter. "Seriously though," Don continued, "what _are_ you going to call her?"

"She's going to be Iris Rose Taylor," Stella told him, star-filled eyes gazing in adoration at the little girl who splayed her fingers against her neck.

"Iris Rose Taylor... it's pretty," Don decided.

Stella smiled. "Come and have a closer look at your goddaughter," she offered, shifting with care so she could hold Iris facing towards him and Don scooted nearer. Staring, he marvelled at the miniature scale of her, enthralled by the tiny life in his friend's arms.

The baby, her face pink and new-born crumpled, was like a rose bud. As delicately as if she really was made of petals, Don stroked her cheek with his fingertip. "She's beautiful," he breathed, entranced by the exquisite and tiny fingernails, the eyelashes that feathered her eyes and the downy dark hair over her head. Mac and Stella just smiled as they watched him and Iris.

"Hey," he said softly. "I'm your Uncle Don and I'm very, very pleased to meet you, baby Iris. I guess you're going to get used to this face 'cause your Ma and Pa are good friends of mine and I'm going to be seeing a lot of you."

"We certainly hope so." Mac said and Stella agreed.

"Godfathers get extra visiting privileges," she said and Don shot her a grin.

The baby yawned and clenched her fists and Don chuckled, glancing at Mac and Stella. "She's a honey," he told them in low tones. "I'm thrilled for you guys."

Wriggling, Iris wrinkled her nose and blinked, her bright blue eyes seeming to look right into his. Don held out his little finger to her and broke into a laugh, startled, when she seized it.

"That's quite the grip she's got already," he said and then smirked at Mac. "But unless I'm very much mistaken, her papa is going to be wrapped right around _her_ little finger in no time at all."

Stella laughed softly and Mac smiled wryly, though didn't deny the charge, before Don, conscious of how long he had been there already, got to his feet.

"I'm going to leave you three to get to know each other some more," he said, shaking his head when they both urged him to stay a little longer, noting the weariness Stella was failing to conceal. "No, I've intruded long enough and you guys ought to try and get a few hours' sleep."

"It has been a long and eventful day," Mac said, his eyes again on his wife and new daughter as he rubbed the back of his neck, the worry he'd suffered apparent in the creases in his face.

Sinking back into the pillows, Stella raised one hand to her husband's cheek, her thumb brushing his skin.

"A long day with a _very_ happy ending," she said, her voice tired but contented.

Don smiled, and felt a pang of, not jealousy now, but wistfulness tinged with longing.

"I'll see you guys in the morning," he said in a lowered voice.

"Thank you." Mac looked up for only an instant and Stella gave no answer though she smiled faintly. A moment later, her eyes closed and Mac turned back to her, smoothing a few stray curls from her forehead.

As he left the room, Don stole one final look back at the family, a smile flitting over his lips at the sight of Mac lifting Iris from her mother's arms with tremendous care and holding her to him, murmuring to her.

After he had closed the door with a soft click, Don stood for a moment on the landing a small smile on his face before he tucked his hands in his pockets and trudged down the stairs.

In the kitchen he found Jennifer and the doctor sitting at the kitchen table, a plate with the sparse remains of apple pie on it in front of them along with a jug of coffee.

"Save anything for me?" He greeted them both with insouciance and they turned towards him, an almost guilty look on both their faces.

"My dear Mr Flack, I'm afraid there's very little apple pie left to speak of," Hammerback said and Don feigned hurt and shock.

"What? Not even the pie crust?"

Jennifer grinned. "Not even that. However, I _did_ find a tin full of cookies in one of the cupboards which I held back for you."

"My saviour." Don sat down with a contented sigh and rooted in the tin that Jennifer placed in front of him. A thought struck him then and leaving the cookies alone, he stood up and went over to one of the cupboards, pulling out a bottle of brandy in triumph after a moment's rummaging. Finding three glasses after a little more rummaging, he set them out and poured a measure of brandy for all of them. "A toast," he said in answer to his companions' questioning looks. "To the Taylor family."

"To the Taylor family!" They raised their glasses, chinking them together before taking a sip of the dark amber liquid.

"Whew." Don gave an involuntary shudder as it drenched his insides with heat. "Strong stuff. Never did like the taste of it, but it was all I had... Mom told me to bring it for my chest," he explained and the doctor peered over his glasses at him, a glimmer in his eyes.

"Your Mom is quite the wise woman, Mr Flack."

He grinned remembering Stella's words of the previous night. "She sure is. Still, this is a much better use of the stuff."

The doctor smiled and set down his half-full glass of brandy before rising from his seat. "Well my dears, I'm sure you'd both benefit from some sleep. I'll call to see Mrs Taylor and Iris later this morning, but I'm satisfied they're in good hands here, especially with Miss Lannis around." He smiled at Jennifer. "I was delighted to have your help, as I know Mrs Taylor was, too."

"I'm happy to have been able to help," she said, fiddling with the chain of her pendant and un-tucking it from the front of her dress, the light glancing off the silver piece of jewellery round her neck as she did so.

The expression on the Doctor's face changed in an instant; the colour vanishing from it and his jaw slackening.

"Doctor Hammerback?" Don stepped forward, alarmed, but the doctor's eyes remained on Jennifer.

"Miss... Lannis." His voice was a husk of its usual sound. "Where did you get that necklace?"

Jennifer's eyes darted to Don, her hand creeping round the pendant. "Why do you want to know?" she asked.

"Call it... call it an old man's curiosity," the doctor replied, his gaze intent on her.

After a moment's hesitation, Jennifer answered. "I've had it all my life. My parents told me I had it when they adopted me."

The doctor did not remove his gaze from Jennifer; his eyes seemed to be elsewhere though and Don felt a prickle of unease, stepping closer to the young woman as he did so. "What's going on?" he asked, but the doctor was speaking as if he hadn't even heeded his voice.

"If it's not an impertinent question, my dear, may I ask how old you were when you were adopted and how long ago that was?"

Confusion increasing in her features, Jennifer frowned before she replied, "I was... I was two, only just two, and it was 27 years ago."

Her hand remained resting on the back of the chair and Don moved his over hers.

Hammerback sighed and pushed a lock of his greying hair away from his forehead. "I wonder," he muttered, half to himself. "Yes, I wonder... Please, humour me, my dear," he addressed Jennifer again. "I have just one more question." His smile was kindly, with a suppressed excitement hidden behind it. Don tightened his grip on Jennifer's hand and she sent him a quick, grateful look.

"Sure," she answered the doctor and he patted her other hand.

"This may seem a little intrusive." He paused to glance at Don also, whose curiosity had roused now, greater than his suspicion, "But do you have on your left shoulder, just above your collarbone, a small birthmark that is, in shape, rather similar to a butterfly?"

Jennifer tensed, Don feeling the rigidity in her hand. "How do you know that?" she said in a half-whisper, her gaze locked on the older man.

"May I see?" he asked gently. "Just to be sure?"

In silence, Jennifer slid her hand from Don's and pulled aside the strap of her dress, revealing a small light brown birthmark, distinctly shaped like a butterfly.

"Oh my..." Hammerback sat back down on his chair, picked up the glass of brandy and drained it in one gulp.

"Hammerback, what the heck's going on here?" Don demanded, the sight of Jennifer still staring at the doctor in bewilderment making his voice harder than he intended it to be. This time it was Jennifer's hand that curled round his, calming him.

Hammerback looked between the two of them, with a smile that quivered on his mouth. "I think, Mr Flack, that I have just solved a 27 year old mystery." His eyes deep with compassion, he clasped Jennifer's hands. "My dear child; my _dear_ child, I know this will be no small shock to you, but I have very good reason to believe that you are the little girl lost from here 27 years ago. Jessica Angell, found at last."

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading :) Please spare a minute to leave a review - I'd really love to know what you think of this chapter! Lily x<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: The characters are still not mine, sadly.  
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**Notes: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter; I really appreciate it and please continue to do so! Many thanks to _Ballettmaus_ and _Suallenparker_ ****for all their patience and help with this chapter, which has taken a bit of time to get just right. And a thank you to _webDLfan_ for reminding me about Lucy's toys :D****  
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**This is the final chapter, so a big thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed the story. I hope you enjoy the conclusion :)  
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Chapter 15

A cloudy morning had bloomed into an afternoon of balmy sunshine and acres of dazzling blue sky. After the storm, Don and his guests had enjoyed two days of almost perfect summer weather. The humidity had temporarily lifted and the air held just enough breeze to ripple the tips of the grass.

Having wandered indoors to fetch himself a glass of water, Don now stood on the steps of the porch, overlooking the lawn and the scene in front of him, unwilling for a moment to rejoin his friends, wanting instead to print the scene in his mind, a keepsake of the afternoon.

Lindsay sat absorbed in her task, putting the finishing touches to another sun dress for Iris. Close by, Lucy and Danny had set up camp with a chosen few of Lucy's babies (dried out after their soaking in the storm) under a tent constructed from an old tablecloth and a couple of garden chairs. Both of them were hard at work creating daisy chains - Lucy's new craze - with Danny being instructed by his daughter on how to make the chains.

At the sight of his friend, Don chuckled. He sported daisies himself, poked through his buttonhole, but he had escaped lightly in comparison: Danny wore several chains round his neck, one on his head and three on each wrist. Everyone, however, wore at least one of Lucy's creations. Mac's looked jaunty round his hat; Stella, resting on cushions with her arm linked through her husband's, had arranged hers in her hair and even baby Iris Rose had a little crown of daisies round her head and bracelets of them round her wrists and ankles. They entranced her as she clutched for her toes while she lay on a blanket at Stella's side, shaded by a large parasol. It was the first time that Stella and her daughter had been outside since Iris Rose's early arrival and Mac had hovered anxiously close to both of them.

Though it was only two days since her birth, his goddaughter had already become an important part of his life and watching her made Don smile involuntarily. She was dressed in the embroidered smock that Lindsay had made for her and Don's smile became a grin as he thought of the extensive wardrobe the baby had already acquired. He had already remarked to Stella that Mac might have to get a bigger car to fit the additional luggage they were taking back with them.

'Might I remind you that some of that so-called _additional luggage_ is your goddaughter,' Stella had retorted, to which Don had only chuckled.

At that moment, Stella herself looked up and caught Don's eye, sending him a questioning look.

"Be with you in a minute," he called in response and she nodded, satisfied, turning back to address a remark to one of his more recent guests.

Although, they were perhaps not so much guests, he mused, as visitors; considering they owned the house and the grounds they all now sat in. Invited by him, with Jennifer's consent, Mrs Angell and her eldest son, Joseph, had arrived the day before. Now Mrs Angell and Joseph sat beside Mac and Stella, while Jennifer sat on her own a short distance from them.

Don wanted to join her, but hesitated and was stopped from any further action by a little hand tugging at his.

"Uncle Don, daddy said I had to ask you another question." Lucy gazed up at him earnestly.

"Oh he did, did he?" Don asked the little girl and shot a glare at Danny who grinned and waved at him, clearly feeling safe in the company of others.

Lucy nodded with a grave expression on her face. "Yes he did. Daddy says he doesn't know what babies like to eat for lunch but he said you would know 'cause you're a detective _and_ you know all about lunch."

If there had been no one else around, Don would have had no compunction about sending Lucy safely out of earshot and marching over to Danny with a few words that were unsuitable for young ears. He had apparently forgotten the wrath of Lindsay after she had found out that the two of them had been sending Lucy back and forth with potentially awkward baby-related questions. As it was, he contented himself with a glower at Danny that promised vengeance and resisted sending Lucy back with an even more facetious question.

Crouching down to Lucy's level, he grinned at her. "Babies mainly have milk for lunch, because they haven't got any teeth to bite with."

Lucy frowned, considering, before asking with a troubled look on her face, "Does that mean they can't eat cookies with their milk, Uncle Don?"

He nodded solemnly. "It does. No teeth, no cookies."

An appalled look came over the little girl's face. "Poor, poor babies." She heaved a sigh. "I guess we're real lucky we've got teeth and we can eat cookies aren't we, Uncle Don?"

Still serious-faced, he nodded again. "We sure are, Luce."

"But when do babies get teeth so they can eat cookies?" she asked, leaving Don flummoxed as to the answer, until an idea struck him.

Smiling at Lucy, he ruffled her hair. "How about you go ask your Aunt Stella, seeing as your mom's busy sewing? She's a smart lady and you could ask her when Iris Rose will get teeth."

Lucy's face brightened up and she did a little jump of happiness, before exclaiming, "Thank you, Uncle Don!" and rushing across the grass to Stella.

Don grinned; Stella wouldn't mind answering the little girl's question – she had answered plenty already from the moment Lucy had been allowed a peep at Iris Rose - and in the meantime, he would think up something to pay Danny back, preferably when he least expected it.

Seeing Lucy kneeling down in front of Stella, who was now listening intently to the youngest Messer, Don turned his gaze and attention to Jennifer again. In contrast, her attention seemed adrift from everyone and everything, far away from the garden and the people in it. Seeing her among his friends and guests, it struck him how alone she looked, and how much he wanted to rectify that; to be with her and end his own loneliness, too. Once more he hesitated, unsure, until he realised that she was now watching him. With a knowing smile, she got up, walking across the grass to him, Mrs Angell's wistful gaze following her until a remark from Mac drew her attention away.

Don met her half way and they stopped in front of each other.

"Hey." Jennifer smiled, reaching out to caress his forearm. "You okay? You looked like you were having some pretty deep thoughts."

"Deep thoughts? You got the wrong guy for that."

She looked sceptical, but said nothing; instead she looped her arm through his before guiding him towards a patch of grass, away from everyone else.

"Sit," she commanded, tugging him down next to her, asking once they were settled, "What were you thinking about?" On the surface her question was light, but underneath ran much more.

In answer, Don leaned over, and with their gazes meeting for a moment, he let his lips brush across hers, drawing away while his fingers glided across her skin, moving down her face and around to caress the back of her neck. The gesture echoing those many that had passed between them in the last two days. And though they were not alone now, there was very little shyness left; just a quick glance round to check no one's attention was on them.

With the sun causing glints of light to dance in her eyes, Jennifer murmured, "Maybe I shouldn't ask any more about your thoughts?"

Don grinned as his other hand wandered to her leg and came to rest on her knee. "I was thinking about a few things, including us."

The smile on her face bloomed. "I like that."

"You do?" His eyebrows raised, unsure of her exact meaning.

"I do." She nodded. "I like _us_."

Moving closer to her, Don kissed her again. "Me too."

When her smile faded, he wondered, studying her as her eyes lowered and she plucked a daisy from the grass, twisting its stem between her fingers.

"You okay?" he asked, placing his arm round her back.

A brief smiled crossed her face, before it slipped into a frown. "I don't know," she admitted. Though her eyes met his for only a second, he saw the troubles within her. "I don't need to tell you that the last two days have been... confusing."

Don rubbed her back and she leaned into him, dropping her head onto his shoulder. "I know," he murmured, kissing her temple. "I know."

They stayed like that, Jennifer giving a weighty sigh after a minute. "I've thought a lot about things, too," she told him, looking up at him. "Asked myself a lot of questions; wondered about what I'm going to do, what decisions I make..."

He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Did you give yourself any answers, or make any decisions yet?"

A wry look appeared on her face. "Not exactly. One answer led to another question, another answer, another question... then I'd decide something, then change my mind, then change it back, then change it again..." Her lips curled. "You get the idea."

In sympathy, his face softened, thinking about some of the choices he'd faced recently, too. Taking hold of her hand, wrapping his around it, he smiled. "We both have a lot of choices, and I guess we don't have to make decisions right away. Maybe we just got to see how some things work out."

She nodded, thoughtful. "I guess it's better to have choices than not have any at all."

"Exactly." He grinned then. "You know, we're getting pretty philosophical here."

A faint smile appeared on her lips and she squeezed his hand before she looked over at her mother. Her expression softened. "One thing's for sure, I feel like I've gotten a second chance at having a family, and, though this is all going to take time to get used to, I want to get to know all the people who've come into my life. I want to spend time with you all; with you, with my brothers, my mother..." Running her hands through her hair, she broke off with a rueful laugh. "You know I still haven't gotten used to saying that yet, my mother and brothers..." One hand had strayed, by habit, he had realised, to the pendant round her neck again and then her gaze met his, just a trace of insecurity in her eyes. "I'm-I'm kind of struggling with it all, Don," she confessed.

He drew her into his chest, tightening his arm round her while she clung to him, head buried in his shoulder. "I'd be worried if you weren't finding it tough, and you're doing great you know," he murmured.

"I'm not so sure about that," she mumbled with a self-deprecating snort, "Especially after bursting into tears last night just because I forgot to put sugar in your coffee."

He tilted her chin up with his fingertips, soothing the delicate skin under her jaw. "It doesn't matter, and you _are_ doing great. Of course it's going to take time, but we got plenty of time. We'll work things out together..."

Jennifer reached for his hand, her fingers interlacing with his. "There's a lot I'm going to have to figure out by myself, Don, but... but if you're there with me, as long as you really want to be, then I will be okay."

"I do want to be," he said; stated it with more certainty than he had for anything. He saw the cares that she bore and wanted to share them with her. Those carefree days of his were in the past now and he did not regret saying goodbye to them.

Her eyes glistened as she nodded. "I want you to be, too."

He caught the tear that slid down her cheek and drew her into his chest as she sighed deeply and clutched at his shirt. They were disturbed by the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel driveway, followed by the appearance of the Hammerbacks: Martha hurrying across the grass as fast as her size would allow, followed by the doctor.

A hubbub of welcomes, tears, delight and exclamations followed as Martha was greeted by the Angells, introduced to the Messers and the Taylors, including, of course, the newest member of that family who she cooed and clucked over, and finally, she met again the woman who she had last seen as a little girl, so many years ago, who had hung back until then.

"Oh, my sweetheart..." Almost overcome, Martha enveloped Jennifer in an embrace, her plump, comfortable arms holding her close. "Oh, Miss Jessica, to think, after all these years you've come home. I can't tell you how happy I am to see you."

"Thank you," Jennifer said, her voice awkward, flushing a little as Martha dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Don took hold of her hand again and she sent him a brief smile.

"I'm sorry," Martha shook her head. "Dearie me, this isn't the occasion for crying and I'm sure there have been enough tears shed here in this house and garden to last a lifetime. There now," she said resolutely as she tucked the handkerchief back into her bosom, "We'll have no more of that. Jessica has come home and Mr and Mrs Taylor have their baby girl." She smiled round at all of them. "This is a time for happiness, my loves."

"Well said, Mrs H," Don spoke up, squeezing Jennifer's hand. "So, seeing as it's a special occasion how about we find you a chair and I'll bring _you_ something to eat and drink. What do you say?" He gave the housekeeper what he judged to be a winning smile and sure enough, he won her over as after a short hesitation she agreed to his proposition.

"Just this once, Mr Flack." She wagged a finger at him. "It's not right to have you waiting on me."

Don simply grinned and stepped back to allow Mac to set up a canvas garden chair for her close to Stella and the Angells, Lindsay moving over to join them. Martha was soon deep in conversation with them all, settling in her chair (whose back and sides bulged with her width) and pulling knitting out of her bag, while Don, accompanied by Jennifer, went indoors to fetch drinks and snacks.

In the kitchen, they prepared the food and drinks, as they had done several times now, with a practised ease; moving round each other in neat synchronisation, working to the same rhythm.

Pausing to watch Jennifer for a moment as she cut slivers of tomato, Don saw her attention wander from the fruit and the knife in her hand.

"You okay?" he asked, pulling the knife away from her fingers just in time.

"Thanks." She gave him a sheepish look. "Kind of silly really, but I was thinking about my name..." Don raised his eyebrows and she half-grimaced. "With Martha and my mother not even thinking of calling me Jennifer, it's made me think about if I'm going to have to make a decision on what I tell people to call me... what I call myself: am I Jessica or Jennifer, or both?"

Don watched her, seeing the conflict in her, before answering slowly, "Maybe both... I guess to your mother, you'll always be Jessica, even though to yourself, you've nearly always been Jennifer..." He frowned, unsure of how to articulate his thoughts, before simply shrugging and telling her what was in his heart. "But you're whoever you want to be, no matter what you call yourself, or what other people call you. A name's just... it's just a name. It's... I guess... it's the _inside_ you that counts." His face had heated as he spoke, and he shrugged again, almost apologetically while Jennifer gazed at him. And then her lips quirked into a smile as she stated, "'A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.'"

Don grinned. "Shakespeare?"

She nodded, glancing at him, her smile shy. "He comes in useful sometimes."

"And he was a pretty wise guy."

"He was." She smiled. "You're a wise guy, too, Don. In the best possible way."

It made him grin as he kissed the top of her head. "Thank you."

She was silent for a moment, fiddling with the arrangement of tomato slices on the plate, before adding quietly, "You're a good guy as well."

Don smiled, feeling his heart almost glow with her words. "I appreciate that."

He wrapped his fingers round her and they drew together again, lips meeting in a kiss that was tender and languid, both of them drawing apart eventually with a soft sigh.

"We should..."

"Take these out so they don't start thinking we've run away together," Don finished, deadpan, and Jennifer laughed, relaxing a little as she picked up a tray.

"My mother's called me 'Jessie' a few times, too," she remarked. "She must have called me that when I was a baby.

"It suits you," Don mused. "Jessie... Jess... Or," he smirked. "We could call you 'J' which solves any problems."

"Hey." She nudged him in the ribs, but grinned as he feigned clutching his side in pain. "Try it, and you'll find yourself shortened to 'D' in no time at all."

He chuckled and hugged her side on as they strolled out of the kitchen.

Outside, they found Martha with her knitting needles clacking busily and what looked like a tiny cardigan for Iris Rose already taking shape. While she knitted, she continued to discuss clothes making with Lindsay.

"I hope you don't mind, but Dr Hammerback said I could borrow your sewing machine to run up a few outfits for Iris Rose," Don heard Lindsay mention to Martha, who immediately reassured the younger woman that she was delighted her old Singer had been put to such good use.

The doctor himself sat beside them, a benign look on his face as he gave half an ear to their conversation and allowed skeins of wool to be wrapped round his fingers. Don and Jennifer grinned at each other as they heard Martha remind her husband exactly how to hold the wool, the doctor responding with an amiable, 'Yes, my dear.'

After serving the food, and with Jennifer seized on by Lucy to try on some more daisy necklaces, Don was sought out by Martha for a few quiet words.

"Mr Flack, my love, how are all the Angells really?" she asked him. "You'll know that better than anyone seeing as you and Miss Jessica seem so close." Don smirked to himself, trust Martha to have noticed that. "Now I don't want you to share any secrets that aren't any of my business," Martha continued, "but meeting after all these years must have been difficult for all of them."

Don looked down at her, frowning, unsure how to answer. No one but the three Angells themselves had witnessed their reunion. Jennifer had gone out alone to meet the car that had brought her mother and brother and since then, the still-broken family had begun the slow, often painful process of sharing memories of the years they had missed.

"I think..." he began and paused, searching for the best way to express what he thought. Since the unseen reunion of the family, Jennifer and her mother and brother had begun a tentative and relationship, and he remembered what he had observed that morning, when Mrs Angell had moved to hug her daughter, just as she had turned, leading to her being almost trapped sideways in her mother's embrace. The emotion on both their faces had been clear. "I think they're a bit – a bit afraid of each other," he concluded, glancing at Martha uncertainly.

She nodded, sighing a little, but not surprised.

"It's likely you're right, my love, and it's what I'd thought myself. Mrs Angell, bless the woman, is no doubt frightened to lose her daughter again, and Miss Jessica herself, well, maybe she's afraid of losing herself in all that love and longing her mother's kept for all these years." Smiling a little sadly at Don, she studied his face. "That's one of the dangers of loving," she said and he was silenced, realising the truth of that.

They stood together, looking out at the people they loved. Don watched Jennifer, now applauding with Lucy as Danny held up a completed daisy chain in triumph and saw Mrs Angell, who with a delighted look accepted Stella's offer to hold Iris Rose, and then caught her daughter's eye, a hesitant but stronger smile passing between them.

Following Don's gaze, Martha nodded in apparent satisfaction. "They haven't got an easy road ahead of them by any means, my love, but I think things will turn out right."

With a warm smile, she went back to her seat and Don was left by himself until Jennifer caught his eye. Rising from her seat on the ground, she walked over to him.

Kissing him, drawing back, her fingertips brushing across his cheek, her eyes held a myriad of sparkles and with another kiss she gave him the promise of all there was to come for them. Then arms round each other they rejoined their friends and family.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading! Please spare a minute to leave a review for this final chapter, even if you haven't done so before - I'd really love to know what you've thought of the story :) More stories very soon! Lily x<strong>


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